


Slip Up

by northpeach, wolfsrainrules



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: (It was horrible I could cry), (eventually) - Freeform, Abuse, Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arcobaleno!Harry, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Skull De Mort, Child Soldiers, Cloud Flame Harry Potter, Cloud Flame temper, Do Not Touch a Cloud’s People, Gen, Harry has PTSD and a host of issues, Harry is Skull, I have headcanons about Inverted Clouds okay, Inverted Cloud Harry Potter, Major character death - Freeform, Master of Death Harry Potter, No worries, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Skull!Harry, THIS IS GETTING REWRITTEN AS IT IS EDITED, Team as Family, The Arcobaleno are dysfunctional but they’re family, The War was worse than canon, The problem is about to find itself entirely eradicated, Torture, Voldemort was a Symptom, Wizarding People are Ignorant and easily lead, all hail me, all the way, and they look out for their own, bless her for putting up with my younger self and her mistakes, even when their own are trying to do stuff alone, i am aware, northpeach is editing, np-i did cry, screw them, sheeple, so stuff is different, the problem has not been fixed, there is no more werewolf register, there will be no dying like men, they hid in their homes while schoolchildren fought and died for their freedom, we aren’t men anyway, we edited, wrr-HAILED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-06-01 16:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15147179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northpeach/pseuds/northpeach, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsrainrules/pseuds/wolfsrainrules
Summary: Skull had lied to the Arcobaleno about...everything, really for over 30 years. Sometimes he wonders what they'd think if they found out. And then the day comes that the do, and Skull-Harry- finds his past brought to light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [When I Can't Lie Anymore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977369) by [northpeach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/northpeach/pseuds/northpeach), [wolfsrainrules](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsrainrules/pseuds/wolfsrainrules). 



> This is finally going up!  
>  _IMPORTANT:_ This is being rewritten and edited as I post it here!!! It's therefore different than the one on Fanfic! I will be replacing the chapters over on FFic soon, but I wanted to get it up here first!
> 
> This was one of my very first 'big' writing projects and _by God_ did it show. I can make this so much better than it was- so I will. With the lovely and beautiful beta reading/Edit help of Northpeach. Bless you darling. You looked at my younger self's writing and while we both cried, you didn't run away screaming. Instead you buckled down with me.

_“What would they think of me?”_

It was something Skull thought to himself many, many times.

He was part of the Strongest Seven, had been for decades now. Decades they had believed they knew him.

Weak, they called him with sneers and smirks. Pathetic. Fool. Lackey. _Stupid_ . That _civilian child_ who had no place among them.

The _irony_.

Skull scoffed to himself, his face twisted into something part mocking, part anger, with slivers of hurt and a sadness that would never truly leave him. Honestly, he was so _tired_.

 _They_ had looked to him from almost the moment he was born, had called on him as their ‘ _knight_ ’ the _‘fix-all_ ’ solution to _their_ problems. He had _needed_ to be strong, to stand at the front, to lead and protect and _be_ their Chosen One for all things. He was expected to _fight_ and _bleed_ and _die_ while they hid and cowered in their homes. Ignorant sheep the lot of them. Incapable of standing up for themselves.

He left.

It was too much, _much_ too soon.

He had won _their war_ , and they wanted so much more from him, wanted and _wanted_ and **_wanted_ ** . He dealt with the symptoms, not the cause and they were all too willing to go back to how it had been _before_ and he _hated that._

Skull was fed up, done with it all, he had _enough_. He left it all behind him. He left word with his people, with those who had the same sleepless nights and helpless rage at the Wizarding World as he did. He left with an apology and well wishes but he still left.

It was time for him to live for himself.

Not for his friends, not for his dead family, not for the people who looked at him and saw their Savior, not for Dumbledore’s plans, not for _anyone_ but _himself._ He wished as a child before Hogwarts to be someone else, someone different and now he was making that wish again. He was an adult now, he could do as he pleased. He could be anyone he wanted to be.

Especially someone _Not Harry_.

So he chose in remembrance and as a warning and became and still was _Skull De Mort_ \- always a reminder of what he had walked away from and his victory against Tom Riddle- Voldemort. Against what the Wizarding World had allowed an orphaned magical child to become.

In a feat worthy of the infamous Potter Luck, he had stumbled upon stunt riding by accident. A circus with a sideshow of stunt drivers arrived in one of the towns he had been staying in.

Skull still remembered sitting in the crowd, his heart in his mouth, watching as the rider rode a motorcycle up a ramp while in a handstand- one hand on the seat the other gripping the handlebars- and the jump. Skull remembered the seemingly endless moment the rider was in the air, the moment Skull had thought for an instant- _He’s not going to make it_ \- remembered holding his breath and then he remembered the landing and the great exhale he had released with the crowd.

Skull had been so…

He didn’t really have words for it. The second Blood War had hardened him. Pieces and parts of him had been scraped out, broken and hollowed. He had… _too many_ scars, too many responsibilities, all on top of the pressure from _them_ , the expectations that he needed to just _keep going_ , that it was his _duty_ which meant he was never truly given an opportunity to _heal_ as he should have…

Skull was a soldier. He was a child soldier who had staggered through the aftermath of a war with all the other child soldiers- _schoolchildren-_ all the while still being expected to be _General_ even long after he should have been done.

Leaving had helped.

A little.

When he had found the lights and noise of the stunt show, initially it had been a distraction. A passing thing, something that had reminded him of happier times- when Sirius had been alive and the two of them had slipped away with no one the wiser and Sirius had taught him to ride motorcycles- something to look at and move on.

He hadn’t expected to feel a small spark of interest- the first spark of genuine interest he had felt in _years_ that didn’t involve the need to survive. It reminded him of when he first climbed on a broom and took to the skies.

Skull had pursued it and that spark slowly grew.

He went from waking up in the morning with bloody images and dark memories of the war, of screams in his ears, of pleas he hadn’t been able to answer echoing in his mind, of the raging agony of the torture he had lived through throbbing like a phantom pain _all the time_ to waking up still suffering from these things, but _he had something to look forward to now_. It wasn’t _all consuming_. There was a growing space where he could _breathe._

There was _light_ in his darkness for the first time.

Skull wondered sometimes if that had something to do with his love for freedom. The freedom to jump and soar with death hovering close by, as it had always been in his life.

It could have been anything.

Regardless, whatever had sparked that interest that day, whatever had shown him a flicker of light in shadows and pain, that was the beginning of a new life.

This had been a chance to be _not Harry_ , to be a stuntman, and this chance offered him the glimpse of light at the end of the road.

And so Skull De Mort the Immortal Stuntman was born. The man who Death himself _hated._ That had a grain of truth in it, but one that no one would believe.

He was new to this world of amusements and glittering light. He was learning still, not yet the best, not yet aware of what danger he would one day bring to his door. For once, this would come from what he _was_ and not from what others saw him as. Still, the danger and adventure would call and even if he didn’t quite know what he would one day walk into, not yet, he couldn’t help but _accept_.

In this moment in time, Skull watched the Arcobaleno walking ahead of him, beginning to grow again now that the Curse held no hold over them. He couldn’t help the sliver of fear and uneasy curiosity and he wondered…if they knew what he had done, what he had lived through…

_“What would they think of me?_


	2. Chapter 2

The Arcobaleno were his Family at this point.

Skull isn’t even sure when their derision and disdain for him and all his purple, obnoxious and shrill voiced glory turned into something a bit less biting, less cutting and more… teasing. Oh, those words were still accompanied by kicks and punches and sometimes even bullets but there was no malicious cruelty in their actions.

It hadn’t been planned.

Hell, Skull had been _sure_ it wouldn’t happen.

Not with the way the others all looked down on him, how they judged him, how they hit him and then _hit him again_ , how they never took him seriously. They spat on all his accomplishments and demeaned his any attempt at help or advice.

He had been a _General_ for Merlin’s sake! He organized and ran a rebellion comprised of _schoolchildren_ in a _school_ under the nose of a teacher with a delight for _torture_ and a _hate_ for _mudbloods._ Food, blankets, clothing, medical supplies, for all those at risk and he had _done it._

Usually people placed him on a pedestal and lauded his ability to overcome. Or condemned him for how _well_ he took to killing and leading an army, but his skills were _never_ in doubt. Here, he was outright _ignored_. It burned and he felt entirely helpless at the situation but it was also... _freeing._ They wanted _nothing_ from him.

At first he had only come back to them because it had been such a _contrast_ to being ‘Harry’. It was nearly the exact opposite. He was considered ‘weak’, ignorant, naive and he didn’t have to lead anybody, no one asked him to charge in and save somebody, no one looked to _him_ for the answers.

He was just a lackey. A nobody who had been called in to the World’s Strongest because of chance, not for anything _he did._ He fetched drinks and food and was given the dirty jobs no one wanted. He cleaned and did the laundry and kept up appearances and no one _cared_.

It was strangely… _relieving_.

He was…free.

There were no expectations to drown in, no demands beyond physical labor and even that…well he’d been doing that since he was old enough to understand orders, so what did that matter? Long sleepless nights and he practiced his sneaking around to clean. Safe, familiar and repetitive actions were comforting.

It had been a slow process to be sure, something Skull hadn’t realized had happened until his protective instincts kicked in.

During the Second Blood War...well.

War had effects on people. Hermione once said he had a ‘saving people thing’. She had been right then as she usually was. He used to have that, the urge to stand up for those who needed it- _whoever_ needed it.

War changed that. Skull had learned the hard, _dirty_ way that there was no saving everyone. So he shifted his focus. If there was a threat, he removed it. Permanently, even if death was not always his first choice. He didn’t give a _shit_ about _Dumbledore’s second chances_ . This was a war, people died, innocents were caught in the crossfire and _people made their choices._

Harry Potter made his. He made the choices he could live with, when the dust settled.

He was _vicious_ about protecting what was his. He couldn’t save everyone, so he saved _his_ people. Protected them. Defended them and _taught_ them. He gave choices and chances and did his best.

He almost laughed all those years later when he learned about Cloud Flames. He was an Inverted Cloud meaning some Classic Cloud characteristics flipped. For example- Skull liked contact (he suspected this came from his childhood at the Dursleys’ house and all the negative attention he received) but only from those he _chose_ . As a Cloud he didn’t react well if strangers tried getting close. Another example- Clouds were _stubborn_ \- usually about everything. Their way or the highway.

Skull was willing to compromise if there was a compelling reason. This came from long hours at a table with maps and information reports on death, destruction and Death Eater movements. There were pockets, groups of resistance beyond those who stood at Harry’s side. They were mostly older than him and compromise was required to get things to run smoothly. Though he still had that steel spine most Clouds were known for, he had learned it was unnecessary at times. It would be there until it was needed.

Something else that Skull differed from with most Clouds- most Clouds had territory that they guarded. For most this was a town, a building or even possessions. Skull didn’t have any sort of happy memories attached to his home in England, and while Hogwarts qualified, he was no longer a student. On top of that, Hogwarts had been where he saw many of his own fall, watched a large portion of his worst memories play out. So Skull’s territory tended to be _people._

Not in the sense that he _owned_ them, Skull would never even think about claiming to own _anybody_ \- he was a _Cloud_ and _all_ Clouds no matter where they fell on the scale valued their freedom above all things. (This, Skull knew, was especially true for him after he realized how he had been lead around by the nose when he was younger.)

No- people that Skull claimed as _his_ found that they had a **_vicious_ ** protector when the need arose. Someone who would guide them if it was needed but was most content to walk at their side, only stepping in front of them if it was to shield them, or behind them to block the unseen dagger aimed for the back.

Skull had what amounted to a network of informants, and he used them to stay three steps ahead of those who meant to harm _his_ people. Most of those informants were people he saved in some form or other. Laws he threw out, Death Eaters he killed and prisoners he rescued. All were connected to him through Voldemort’s actions.

This too, was a mark of his war.

Skull was paranoid. Most couldn’t tell just looking at him, not with the over the top antics he tended to use. He was _loud_ and vibrantly _purple_ , the exact opposite of stealthy. They easily dismissed him as a threat, stuck him in a box and labeled him as a _fool_ , but that was helpful in keeping the upper hand. If he needed to, he could harm the Arcobaleno to the point where they would never recover. It wasn’t paranoia if they were really out to get you, and Skull ( _Harry_ ) had quite the number of people who wanted him dead or captured after the war. Some because they were remnants of the war and others because they wanted their General to save them from everything else.

But Skull?

He was a **Cloud** and he would go where he _chose_.


	3. Chapter 3

The day Skull realizes he had claimed the Arcobaleno as _his_ starts rather nicely.

He spent the early hours of the night cleaning and managed to sleep decently until morning. There was a nice breeze out, just enough cloud cover to be sunny but not overbearing. Fresh air, birds singing and all in all a pleasant morning. The Arcobaleno had gathered together at a bar and grill that was very familiar with them and their need for privacy and odd requests. For once it’s going well for everyone. There’s no violent demonstrations of superiority, no vicious arguments or continued fights. It’s productive and there’s _nothing wrong_.

Skull is antsy as hell.

Every instinct he has is screaming at him. Cold fingers of a long buried fury crawling up his spine and he can feel his Flames rising in his chest. Only it’s not a _mafia_ problem, it’s not a _Skull_ problem that is triggering this response. It’s different and terrifyingly familiar and that’s when the anger comes.

Some of ‘ _Harry_ ’ bleeds through into Skull.

He’s tense and quiet. Anything he says is stilted and it’s obvious he’s not really paying attention. His eyes dart from windows to exits, lingering over faces and hands, and he keeps his back to the wall with all the blind spots and doors in firmly in his line of sight. He’s ready for just about anything.

He will not be caught off guard when there’s something so painfully familiar about _what’s setting him off_ and he _hates this._

Skull’s also drawing attention to himself from his fellow ex-Arcobaleno, but he doesn’t care right now because _something is wrong_.

All he needs to do is find it so he can _get rid of it._

So he ignores the eyes of the other Arcobaleno staring him down. There is confusion and suspicious as they look at him and aren’t recognizing the man who first sat down at the table with languid body language with grand gestures and a loud voice. If Skull were looking, if he was paying attention to his fellow Elements, he would see the irritation, the annoyance and the sharp edges in their eyes as they look at him, but he _isn’t._

He looks for threats instead.

This focus on everyone and everything _else_ means that he doesn’t really notice when the Arcobaleno eventually stop talking, doesn’t notice when Colonello and Reborn’s frustration with him builds until they both reach for him and he automatically slips through their hands. He doesn’t catch the way Reborn’s lips curl into a smirk, barely restrained from violence or the way Colonello turns his entire body to stare where Skull’s eyes are lingering.

( _He had never dodged their hands before- only bullets and weapons and such._ )

In that moment, before any make a single move, Skull notices them first.

It’s something that had to be _trained_ into the body- relaxing at the sight of danger. It not only puts the people who are causing the danger off center, but it allows for greater reaction on Skull’s side. It’s an assassin thing- hitmen are usually the ones that do this, but Skull had learned this trick _years_ before he had ever heard of the Mafia.

He slides to his feet with a sudden gracefulness, never letting his eyes focus on the people he had finally pinpointed as the source of his unease for more than a fraction of a second. He glides forward on silent feet, shifting from the walls and around tables until he reaches them.

Skull doesn’t notice how his movements have put the Arcobaleno on guard. They were the best of the best- they recognized the way Skull went from quiet, scanning everything to that near invisible fraction of a second miss-it-if-you-blink stillness followed quickly by his body relaxing into a ready-for-anything causal-at-a-glance stance.

They had never seen these instincts and movements from their Cloud, but this was Skull (no one else had Cloud Flames like his, no one could fake them so they knew it was their Cloud) and they trusted him even if he was what they considered the ‘ _weak link_ ’. Colonello keeps his gaze on Skull’s path and Reborn’s smirk tugs downwards into a frown, but he stands with Leon in his grip. They each responded to all the nonverbal cues their Cloud was giving off by mimicking them- their bodies relaxing into that ready state, their eyes casually sweeping the area for what was setting their Cloud off.

At first, it’s for information, for scientific curiosity, for boredom or even interest, but...there’s _nothing._ It upsets more than a few of them that they _don’t see_ whatever Skull sees.

And they know it’s something serious which makes it worse because _this is Skull_. Skull who is their weak link, who doesn’t have their strength or skill level, who is _walking into danger they can’t sense._

Skull heads for the bar. The route there takes him past the table the people he’s watching are casually sitting at.

He’s glad it’s not too crowded, a few groups scattered through the bar (most had fled upon seeing the Arcobaleno come in) and not much else. The staff know not to bother them, know enough to keep out of their way when things go down.

He is expecting it when, as he passes the table, a hand darts out. He’s expecting it when they grip his wrist and try to jerk him around to attack him. He is expecting the other hand to be reaching for his head. It’s not. That other hand is holding something else, something he can’t quite see.

It doesn’t matter in this moment.

Skull lashes out fast, hard and with war trained reflexes that he has done nothing to dull, not _allowed_ to dull even during his stint in the mafia, over the decades. The one to grab his wrist goes down easily, the palm strike to his nose killing him instantly as bone sinks into delicate brain matter. The other man dodges and steps back away from Skull, anger twisting his expression as he lashes out himself.

Skull expects that too.

He doesn’t _quite_ expect the wand until there’s familiar words beginning to shape this one’s mouth and it’s the end of an era and the past comes _screaming_ through the front door.

Skull focuses on it like the threat it is and he is unaware of the way his face has twisted in an expression none of the Arcobaleno have ever seen- rage and pain and _how-dare-you_ and a bit of horror ( _he was done- he wasn’t Harry why were they here_ **_why were they here_ ** ) and a smidgen of fear because _he did not want to go back_.

They’re going to _make him go back_.

He forgets the Arcobaleno are there for a moment.

He forgets and it’s not quite _Skull_ anymore, because he’s been Skull for _so long_ but Skull isn’t _magic. Harry Potter_ is magic, will always _be_ magic and he’s the one they’ve come for. Everyone _sees_.

They see the rage ( _that had never shown up on their Cloud’s face before_ ) they see the pain ( _who was this son of a bitch to cause pain to their Cloud?)_ they see the horror ( _and the man’s grave just keeps getting deeper- that had never shown up on their Cloud’s face before either- not like that. Not_ actual _horror_ ) but the fear…the _fear_ so unlike the fear he showed them, this fear that said he _knew_ what was coming and he was scared of it- _that_ pissed them all off.

And then the man lifts his wand and suddenly Skull remembers the Arcobaleno are behind him and then _Skull_ is gone and in his place is Harry Potter: Man-Who-Conquered and he’s _angry_.

It’s been years, so it’s a bit different then when he was younger. But only in the sense that now his rage burns long and cold, his eyes have focused solely on the enemy in front, and Cloud Flames are flickering over his skin from his hands up his arms to his shoulders, and he’s _sharpened_ in the way only war can teach you.

The Arcobaleno freeze. Stuttering breaths and stumbling limbs. It’s surprise and shock and _oh_ **_fuck_** _._

They had known their Cloud for just about thirty three years. They had **_never_** seen him angry like this. They had never seen the temper all Clouds were known for having in **_their_** Cloud. _(Not_ ** _really_** _)_. The fact that this man- whoever he is- has pissed off not just an Inverted Cloud but _Skull_ to the point that his Flames flicker over his arms up to his shoulders is telling. Skull has skipped over irritation, anger, and that breaking point and gone straight to **_rage_** _._

They can’t quite manage to explain how Skull seemed to have _grown_ six feet, his presence swelling and filling the room as his shadow- a left over from the curse, something their _flames_ actually cause now, not a curse- flickers and stretches. ( _That_ had never happened with Skull either. Neither their shadow flicking- a sign of extreme emotion- nor the stretching which was a sign of _fury_ )

Skull gives the man one warning- simply because he knows the Arcobaleno are behind him and he doesn’t want them to see this in him, this one secret thing that isn’t _Skull_ -

**_“Get out.”_ **

The man doesn’t listen. He fires a Bombarda instead.

Skull’s Flames blind everyone in the room when they flare in response and no one, no one but Viper, can sense the magic that flares with them, but they **_all_ ** hear the low guttural snarl that escapes their Cloud, the sound of splintering wood and a choked off _wheeze_.

When their eyes clear of the purple afterimages, the man is hanging limply in Skull’s grasp, feet barely brushing the floor, staring at nothing, his eyes wide and unseeing. The Cloud’s fists open and the body falls. It’s somewhat recognizable, what’s been done as it’s something they had only ever seen after Viper destroyed someone’s mind, but this time it’s _Skull_ leaning over the body of the braindead man.

Skull had dived into the man’s head to see why he was there.

What he finds isn’t good.

It makes his blood burn and the memories he’s spent so long learning to live with come back with a vengeance in all their blood-stained glory.  

Skull erupts into a bonfire of amethyst Flames and _snarls_.


	4. Chapter 4

A moment in silence, before Skull whirls for the door. He doesn’t notice the man he dropped being _burned_ into ash by his Flames and his Magic as he passed him. He sees the Arcobaleno reflected in a conveniently placed mirror frozen behind him, but he’s so angry it doesn’t actually register that they’ve seen _Harry_ beneath Skull, that they’ve seen the Man-Who-Conquered that lived in his mind. It doesn’t register that they have seen him as a soldier, as a veteran of a war ( _even if they don’t know that is what they have seen_ ) that they have seen his instincts wake up and take over.

He needed to know _why_ so he had found out.

Snape hadn’t taught him much of anything all those years ago, but Skull remembered how he had attacked his mind, ripped any shield he had made into shreds, how he had dived into memories and how much it had _hurt_. He remembers how Voldemort did the same.

Harry learned how to _attack_ a mind long before he learned to defend his own. How to dive into someone’s head and find what he needed. He’d done it accidentally all those years ago when he had snapped back and attacked Snape, sliding through his shields like a knife through butter. When he had found that memory of his father being a bully. He had succeeded where _Voldemort_ had failed, had gotten into the man’s head- even if had only been for an instant- as a _novice_ someone who hadn’t even known it was _possible_ to dive into someone’s head even a week before.

It hadn’t been much of a surprise when- due to the war- Harry had thrown himself into _really_ learning the art of the mind- shielding and attacking it and had been really, _really_ good at it. He hadn’t wanted to physically torture anyone for information he needed- but it hadn’t stopped the necessity of it before, and Harry had done what he needed to survive, but learning _had_ prevented the majority of any physical torture for information he had had to do.

( _It_ _hadn’t stopped it, hadn’t stopped the nightmares_ after _, hadn’t stopped him from throwing up the first few times, hadn’t stopped him from feeling sick every time, and especially hadn’t stopped him from getting really, really good at it so he wouldn’t have to take too long, but it had helped._ )

It was also the reason Skull was good enough to keep _Viper_ out of his head why even she had not known of his past as Harry, any mist user that had tried it had never succeeded in getting anything Skull hadn’t wanted to be found, because if Harry wanted to get the information he needed he would have to attack the minds of the very best- which meant he had to be better so he had been and still was. None of his skills were ones that left him easily. That were dropped and never picked back up again.

His hands are shaking, but Skull doesn’t notice as he stomps out the door. He doesn’t notice the bottles and glasses he walks by shaking so hard they crack and shatter in his wake. His ears are ringing and he doesn’t notice the lights all exploding behind him, doesn’t notice windows panes vibrating as he passes, doesn’t notice how the door flies open before he even touches it. Harry doesn’t notice how he’s leaving actual burning footprints in the floors where he walks or how after he clears the door the Arcobaleno unfreeze and lunge after him.

He keeps walking. All he can think is that he needs to get away so he can lose it, so he can have a moment to  _feel_ so he can work through it before he has to leave and fix it all. All he can think is-

_“Not here, not yet. Steady…steady. Wait."_

His hands are trembling, his teeth are chattering but he’s clenching them so tightly he can barely tell.

He had been _done_.

They had tracked him down. They wanted their _General_. They wanted _their Savior_.

 _He was Skull now_.

But they wanted the _Man-Who-Conquered_.

He had left it all behind, all the memories, all the rage, all the pain, all the _expectations_.

And they had still found him. Still expected Harry to lead the charge, to wage war in the name of the greater good, for the sake of the Wizarding World and it had _never_ been about _that._  He _couldn’t do this_ again. He _couldn’t_ but he _must_.

His breath hitched.

**_He was so angry._ **

Skull makes it to the forest further up the road away from the bar, from the buildings, from the _people_ and he keeps walking- the Arcobaleno on his heels.

( _not that Skull notices this in his state. Not when he had long ago stopped considering any of them an actual threat to his life, and as such stopped registering them as threats. Instead he recognizes them as friends so he doesn’t instinctively lash out at them_ )

He keeps moving until he finds a clearing, devoid of people, trees and animals and that’s where Skull hits his knees and **_screams_**.

His Magic and his Flames flare wide and seethe around him, filling the entire clearing and blanketing the area around him. Only a few feet behind him, the Arcobaleno stagger at the pressure blooming from the edge of the tree-line.

It’s voiceless, the howl that leaves his throat because he has no words to describe the emotions that fuel his Flames. He _left_ the Wizarding World and all it’s demands. He was done, he had been _healing_ and they decided to call him back- _by force_. He falls forward, his forearms hitting the dirt, his fingers digging into the ground and it _hurts._ They could _tether_ him, leash him like a dog to be dragged from problem to problem, only leaving when there were enough bodies on the ground and they decided his _duty_ was _done_.

That tears another furious yell from him because he is a Cloud and _they_ _are_ **_chaining_** _him_. He screams because the memories are all rushing back and it’s _too much_ and _he can’t_. He rages in brilliant, seething anger, slamming his forehead to the Earth in order to to silence the screams of the dying he can hear in his head. He wails in the remembered pain of the dead and the betrayals but he can still hear the voices of friends and family shouting in his memories.

He wails, cutting off sobs in great gasping breaths, because right now, right now he is not Skull, he is not the Man-Who-Conquered, he is just Harry and he is being called to stand in the front lines again. The people who abandoned him, who forgot his mother and spat on his godfather, are hiding in their homes waiting for someone to save them and they picked him once more.

His magic lashes out, ripping up the ground around him and he presses the heel of his palms to his eyes and _shakes_ because he knows he cannot escape their grasp. They’ve found him again and they won’t stop until they get what they want. There will be blood on his hands again regardless.

Harry pushes himself up, trembling and so utterly furious and for a single moment he stands in the sunlight, his magic vibrating the air and his Flames licking up his body. The cry the leaves him is almost soft, but it is pained and he crumples into himself because he can _feel_ the chains snapping onto his _soul_ and it _hurts._ No Cloud is ever meant to be chained, to have their freedom taken away and that is what had happened.

In the moment it had taken Skull to look into the wizard’s mind he had seen it all laid out.

There would be no escape for him.

And it makes him **_rage_**.

 

* * *

 

The Arcobaleno followed after their Cloud as soon as he left. There was no doubt they _wouldn’t_ be right on his heels, especially after seeing his reactions to whatever triggered that incident.

Observant gazes from the strongest and arguably the most brilliant people in the world do not miss an detail. They all see his hands shaking as he walks. They watch how he struggles to suppress his Flames as much as he can while there are civilians and _people_ around. It is...concerning how, despite his visible effort, that his Flames are _writhing_ away from under his control.

They can see his hands shaking harder that farther he walks. He stumbles and sometimes he moves as if he’s in pain but it doesn’t take long before the town behind them falls in the distance.

Then Skull reaches the clearing and his body goes _down_ , his knees hitting the dirt and his hands rising to his hair-

Reborn is seconds from following him into it, Colonello right on his heels when the lackey’s Flames snap out from under his control alongside something else, something only Viper recognizes as very powerful magic and the entire clearing is scorched under their Cloud’s raging Flames. If the situation were not as it was, some might have laughed as the famed hitman reared back and as Colonello retreated beside him, behind the tree-line in some measure of safety.

But that doesn’t hold their attention for long.

No.

Not even a fraction of a second later, because almost as soon as that wave of power presses in on them and forces them to stop, Skull **_screams_**.

It’s unlike anything they had ever heard from their Cloud. Unlike any outcry of emotion they’ve heard in any of their lives. It rings in their bones and echoes through the muffled bond between their Elements and even Verde cannot hold back a noise at the emotion leaking from Skull’s link.

It’s _wrong_.

He screams and he _keeps screaming_ and it’s **_painful_ ** to hear.

It is rage and pain and hurt. It is denial and disgust and horror. It is _soul searing_ to hear from their Cloud.

Almost like Skull’s very soul is being shredded apart.

It sets them all on edge, fans the instincts that come with being Elements in the same Sky that whisper to protect each other to blazing infernos.

This is nothing like hearing Skull wail and shriek when Reborn or Colonnello push him around, nothing like all the times Skull has thrown fits about one thing or another, nothing like anything they had ever heard from Skull before.

 _This_ is something that their Cloud feels down to his soul that is _tearing_ into him.

Skull is lost to his rage-pain-anger as the Arcobaleno all move to circle the clearing he is kneeling in. They cannot get close without damage to both their Flames because Skull is _projecting_ his emotions and there are tears slipping down cheeks.

 _(He’s_ **_crying_ ** _and it’s so_ different _from any time before, agonized and without words. It’s everything they have never wanted to see from their Cloud, everything they_ never _would have caused in him even before they had begun to bond.)_

As powerful as his Flames are, the Arcobaleno _must_ calm and soothe them before they can approach. They are Elements with a partial bond as protectors to the same young Sky- to Yuni- but they are not _harmonized_ properly. The instincts are all there, but Skull’s Flames do not instinctively respond as a fully bonded Guardian in one Sky or properly and fully harmonized Elements would to any of them. If they were to approach the Flame storm in the clearing without soothing him, Skull would lash out at them. Not on purpose, but in this state, with absolutely no conscious control of his Flames, he could hurt them.

Skull is operating under distress at the full control of his instincts and regardless of anything, Skull _is_ an Arcobaleno. He possesses the strongest Cloud Flames in the entire world and that fact is now very visibly clear to the rest of the Arcobaleno.  

The fact that they _want_ to help him can only bolster their efforts as they begin to raise their Flame levels, higher and higher. Skull doesn’t notice as all the colors of the rainbow join his violet in the clearing. He is oblivious to each type slithering closer to his own. Their Flames are gentle and careful as they brush against his own raging fire. It takes them a few minutes of careful proding and brushing before his Flames begin to respond and ease against them. His Flames still pulse and swell from his person, but the acidic tinge of his rage no longer bites _at them_. They can approach through the fire without worry for their person.

Skull still doesn’t notice when the Arcobaleno begin to approach him, lost in the depths of his memories as he is. His wordless cries have faded into silent sobs, his body hunched over itself, his forehead pressed into the ground. His breath quivers from his throat as he heaves for oxygen he can’t quite take in. His throat is tight and his chest is heavy.

The Arcobaleno still, their movements hesitant and careful.

Their Cloud looks like the weight of the world is crushing him to the floor, like something has pressed down on his back with enough force to bring him to his knees and hard enough that he cannot stand under its weight.

They have seen this man roll with every punch life had thrown at him. He had been the only civilian-raised in the meeting that called them together so long ago, and he had gone along with it. He had been thrown headfirst into the dark deep waters of the mafia and told to swim.  He’d come face to face with the Mafia and Triad’s _strongest_ and still he had lifted his chin and stared them down. The others had thought him a useless civilian at that point, full of himself and with no real talent to be had. And once the Curse had been applied they had all been reeling themselves, and had been in no shape to offer aid to a ‘fool’ they did not know beyond their shared jobs. Skull had survived that first decade on his own for the most part, adjusting the quickest out of the group.

They had watched this Cloud take their every action, their every word, and let it roll off his back. They have seen him shield their blind spots despite their treatment of him. Watched him laugh in the face of death, supposedly indomitable odds, and wounds that _should_ have killed him. It’s a grudging respect they give to Skull. That doesn’t mean they won’t still make him work for it, but this…

He’s not laughing now. He’s not standing with an unbending spine, staring down whatever threat had come for him. He has finally hit his knees, his forehead pressed to the earth like it is the only solid thing he has to hold him up, and it’s disconcerting to the highest degree to see. This- whatever it is- is the hit that Skull cannot shake off or roll with. The hit he didn’t see coming, and it’s struck something _soft_ in him.

 

* * *

 

Viper curses the fact that Skull had burned the body of that man-wizard into ash leaving her without a way to find answers as to _why_ their Cloud is hunched in on himself and why he had screamed like his very soul was seared. She cursed whoever had caused it. She is surprisingly fond of Skull. The stuntman is entirely willing to do favors for her without charge and pays her for favors with her favorite desserts all handmade. There were also several memorable occasions when he showed up with _pure gold_.

Once you got past all the declarations of greatness and got Skull to talk at a normal volume, he was a surprisingly good conversationalist. Even though Mammon rages that somehow her Web had missed this, had allowed something through to harm their Cloud, she knows the reason behind this is the same one that allowed her to miss all the inconsistencies of Skull’s background.

 

* * *

 

Verde had been ready to question Skull within an inch of his life after the scene in the bar. This was new information, a new facet in the Cloud, something to explore and map out. Seeing him like this…hearing the way he had screamed…Verde bites his tongue to stop the questions from pouring out. This was actually serious, something was _wrongwrongwrong_. He had no context beyond what he witnessed scarcely an hour ago and he _didn’t have all the variables_. He _needed_ them all to figure out how to proceed and _fix this._

 

* * *

 

Fon spent years, honing his skills and training long and hard to become the ‘eye’ in his own Storm. He had spent endless hours in meditation to keep his mind steady and clear even when he raged. He was one of those closest to Skull- he knew their Cloud, for where did the Storm he carried spring from but the Clouds themselves? Fon lifts a sleeve covered hand to block the frown on his face. He had planned to corner their Cloud and ask about his behavior at the bar after the meeting, in _private_ , but then all of _this_ happened.

Fon set his questions aside as he witnessed Skull bend in a way he had never seen before like he was being _crushed_. The cause of this is entirely unknown and Fon has _nothing_ and there is _nothing_ he can do. But he takes a breath to still the Storm inside.

 

* * *

 

Yuni was the Sky for the Arcobaleno now. She would never quite harmonize with them as a proper Sky, she was not what they needed, but she was a Juvenile Sky under their protection and partially harmonized because of it. She could _feel_ Skull’s Flames and the way they raged. It echoed and surged along their link, and she choked on a cry as the phantom feeling of _chains snapping into place_ reached her. Her Sight was unstable, the visions changing as quickly as a blink, and Yuni wanted to _rage_ at the cause of her big brother’s pain like she had never wanted before.

 

* * *

 

Reborn was a possessive kind of man. The people and things he claimed as _his_ were **_his_ ** and he took care of them. Skull was _his_ lackey, the Cloud that shielded others from the Sun when it was too intense for everyone else or when the Sun needed to be dark for a moment, Skull was the Cloud that hid him away. They took care of each other in various (usually violent) ways, and that was an accepted thing between them.

He had **_never_ ** heard Skull scream like he was dying this way before, like something inside was being gouged at, scratched and torn away. He had never seen the Cloud allow his spine to bend under the weight of the world or lower his head this way and it set every damn protective and possessive instinct he had _ablaze_.

 

* * *

 

Lal was a soldier. She had been for most of her life. It was what she had wanted to do since she was little and a soldier had saved her and the kids that had been with her when she was young and on the streets. She had only ever heard a scream like the one Skull released _one time_. It was something she had hoped to never hear again. She knew this sound, what this scream meant. She had watched the soldier that released gather what strength he could before running off on a suicidal killing spree. The threat was gone, along with his life.

Hearing it from their Cloud was jarring and unwelcome in the most _violent_ of ways.

 

* * *

 

Colonnello has seen a lot of things in his long life. Watching Skull- the _lackey,_ **_his_ ** lackey- crumble like this? That was new, and Colonnello _did not_ like it. Skull was proud even if he didn’t show it in ways most people would recognize. He had never bent his spine or bowed his head in the face of anything. Oh, he had flinched and screamed and flailed, but Colonnello had never seen him _submit_. His Flames had always been a bonfire warm at their backs and ready to flare in their defense.

All the Arcobaleno had known this- he may be the weakest of them all but he was still the _seventh strongest_ in the world. There was a _reason_ the Arcobaleno- the Seven Strongest in the World- trusted Skull at their backs even if, to the outside observer, they didn’t care about him. Something had brought that bonfire first into a wildfire of rage and then to embers. Something had bowed their Cloud’s spine, had brought his head down. Colonnello would _destroy it_.

 

* * *

 

Skull’s eyes snap up from where he had bowed under the feeling of chains snapping into place on him, where he has bowed under the knowledge that he would _need_ to go back, where he has bowed under the knowledge that he is walking back to another war, when he feels the soft hands of his Sky- his little sister, someone _under his protection-_ on his cheeks.

The sight of his eyes- _dull-dying-desolate-pained_ \- pushes the Arcobaleno further into their rage. They resolve to ask questions _after_ they have demolished whatever had been the cause of this in their Cloud.  

“Skull-nii…? What happened?” Yuni asks softly, tears shining in her eyes and a wobble in her voice.

Skull exhales shakily at the sight, regret stealing over his face. There’s bursts of Flame and there are the rest of his fellow Elements gathered around him. Their expressions are hard, hands clenched, lips set in thin white lines and he is uncomfortably aware he’s the one that put that suspicion there. That edge they’ve always lacked when they looked at him.

He cannot tell them.

There is nothing about the coming war that he can explain in any meaningful way to them. Not without spilling his secrets. That would mean that his private life could be compromised. Mammon would dig up all those things he never wants them to know so he _cannot tell them._

How could he even put this into words? They are all used to taking and refusing whatever jobs they want. It’s not a big deal, if they don’t want to _they don’t._ How is he supposed to explain that there isn’t a _choice_ for him that he would be forced- _chained_ \- into doing his _duty_ , given an army to lead the charge to save the Wizarding World once again?

How would he even _begin_ to explain that what he did wasn’t _enough._ Twice he gave in and _sacrificed_ , and yet they asked for _more_? They asked him for a _third_?

 _How dare they_ , but _especially_ how dare they give him no choice, how dare they go for those under his protection to ensure he would dance to their tune, and march to their drums, a _good little soldier boy_ -

This was an impossible situation. How could he explain that the ‘weakest link’ amongst them was being called upon to take the crown of General once more? That he would need to make the hard decisions again, that he was going to _leave_ and he might not come back.

Harry clenched his teeth and shuddered.

The memories of the future the Arcobaleno gained were fragmented and offered glimpses of a future where they all died. Harry was entirely aware of what he would have done in that situation. But the others were unaware of exactly how violent his death would have been. He would have brought all his power to bear and considering the faint view of the battlefield in which he fought Byakuran and the sheer amount of blood on the ground…

Well, the secret would have been out by then.

But the memories weren’t enough for them to understand so he still couldn’t say anything.

How did he tell them that every nightmare he had was coming to life once again? The nightmare of screaming friends, the phantom pains of the scars carefully hidden under his makeup, gloves and suit? The memory of digging grave after grave for those he loved until so few remained standing in the ashes? How could he explain that he would be _hunted_ until the end of his life?

How was he _explain_ that his presence amongst them threatened their safety with things they couldn’t even _conceive of_ even with their experience with Flames? How did he explain the nightmare of having his place among them disturbed, of the fear that his presence would put them all in danger, that nightmare was _happening right now?_

How did he tell them he had lied to them all?

They had learned to tolerate him, but they could just as easily forget.

Harry turned away from Yuni’s tear filled gaze, allowing his eyes to slip shut. The answer was simple. It was the one he had always given.

He _wouldn’t._


	5. Chapter 5

Decision made, he took another shaky breath, reaching up to cradling Yuni’s hand against his cheek for a moment. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to spill everything right then and there….but he wouldn’t. After a moment he opens his eyes again and lifts them up to stare at the others, all of them hovering close by and looking...actually, he doesn’t have a word for the emotions on their face. Anger is one. Perhaps there’s worry in the corner of their eyes, the curve of their mouth?

It doesn’t matter. Duty calls.

He takes another moment, to sit in Yuni’s Flames before inhaling and closing his eyes once more.

When they open again, they’re hard and steady in a way the Arcobaleno have never seen before. Skull kneels on the ground, emotionally exhausted and feels the way apathy is slowly creeping in to replace the anger. Still, words must be said.

“I am _sorry_ ,” he tells them, and he means it, he means it more than he will ever be able to convey accurately to them.

He knows they realize this when he sees them all lean back just a little, their eyes narrowing as they wonder what it is he is apologizing for. He knows the way he says it is _different,_  knows they won’t understand how he layers it with magic, with Flames and _intent._ But he needs them to believe him, just this one thing.

A lot of things they aren’t going to let go, so for the lies, for the danger he has unknowingly brought to their doorstep…for the way he is going to leave them without the answers they will demand. For many things.

“I am sorry,” He repeats it, but he says it in English, says it the way he had to Ginny before-

He held her hands in his and tears on his cheeks and bags under his eyes. He pressed a kiss to her lips and went off to face his destiny with Voldemort’s voice ringing in his ears. It’s not quite the same, but he remembers all the same. He says it in his first and best language, in _his_ true voice, in a way he had never quite managed to with them. His voice smooths into proud, tilting tones, with a faint Scottish brogue curling his apology. His words are firm and a far cry from the shrill tones they have always heard from him.

Harry knows when they try to track him down, they’ll start with the U.K. because of this, but he feels this needs to be said in the sincerest way he knows how. He pushes up with his hands, standing to his feet, his back unbending and straightening into a steel line, his eyes hard and jaded and dark with the memories he can’t quite shove behind his barriers.

They’re green now, he knows. The use of his magic always returns his eyes to their original color. If he stops using his Flames, his hair will begin to fade from vivid purple to his natural black, but he can’t decide that now.

Instead, he scans the faces of his friends, of his _family_.

He’d searched for family for so, so long. Even before he had known he was searching. The Dursley family had been the start. He’d been three years old and couldn’t understand why he was treated so differently from Dudley. And then the Wizarding World had given him hope- Ron and Hermione and the rest of Ron’s family…it had all been shattered during the war. They had all perished in the war aside from Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred and George.

Harry had left with their blessings and he still kept in contact with the five of them. He had been made a godfather again. He had wept when Bill first told him, holding Victoire as Fleur watched him break into pieces. But the wizard had not hesitated in choosing him. Neither did Fleur. He was family.

Fred and George had also acknowledged his engagement to Ginny and told him that even without that, he had been family since they busted the bars on his windows and freed him for the summer of his second year. He'd never marry Ginny now, having lost her in the Battle of Hogwarts, but they still held him as family. It was challenging to maintain contact because of the people looking for him, but they never stumbled. Determined to keep in touch and the Wizarding World away, because they had seen what the pressure the Ministry was exerting on him was doing to his well being.

( _destroying his soul_ )

He hadn’t found out until later that part of the suffocating feeling was that he was a Cloud and he had been caged and forced into actions and roles that he did not chose. All he had known was the expectations on him had been smothering his spirit and he left and began to heal.

Potter Luck had attacked with a vengeance after that.

All the things he had done in the war had strengthened his Flames. He knew now he’d been using them and causing them to grow even more thinking it was just another part of his magic. No one in the Wizarding World had realized it either, thinking it was just some sort of wandless or accidental magic that manifested in purple flame-like magic. Either way it had made his Cloud Flames the strongest in the entire world and so Checkerface had come to him and offered him a job. Something inside him had whispered to take it-that job. He’d thought it would be a good distraction from the war.

Next thing he knew he was sitting in a room with the World’s Strongest and being thrown headfirst into the mafia. The _mafia._

But he had found family while he flailed with this new world where no one knew of him. At least he thought so until he literally ran into Blaise Zabini at a mafia party.

That moment of stillness when neither of them knew if they should attack the other, try to speak or _what_ had been intense _._ Thankfully no one important had noticed and Harry ended up sitting down with the Slytherin in a quiet conversation on loss and what was happening in the Wizarding World at the moment.

That turned into something of a regular occurrence. Once a month or two, he and Blaise would meet and discuss the new laws, the latest news and they became something like friends. Still, Harry had saved the Italian’s life once and allowed him to leave. Blaise also chose _not_ to curse him in the back or alert anyone from Britain where he was so things would never manage to be completely okay between them, but they were...calm.

Something like friends, but not quite.

There was no warning from Blaise over this though. Nothing even whispered. So the Ministry was denying things and ignoring issues in hopes they went away again. There would be blood. If he didn’t go...

He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t go through this again. He would shatter like fragile glass if the magicals managed to get in a lucky shot, if _any_ of them died. So he would leave them. They would be unaware. _Safe._ Those wizards had found him by mere _chance_ . They’d been in the bar for _food_ not because they thought _Harry Potter_ would be inside. There was nothing to connect the Arcobaleno with Harry Potter save for Blaise Zabini and he would not have done so.

“I will be leaving now,” he says as Harry Potter, with an edge of command in his voice.

He whirls around and begins his return, leaving behind the Arcobaleno, leaving _Skull_ behind.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, a flare of Sun Flames and _of course it wouldn’t be that easy._

The _only_ thing that saved Reborn from the war honed response of violence so close to the surface after what he had seen and what he would need to do, was the fact that Harry knew it was Reborn. He still tensed up. Reborn was not above physical responses. In fact, he delighted in them. Skull would allow it, but _Harry_ would _not_. Never again.

“Reborn.”

His voice was quiet, in those same lilting tones, but there was an unmistakable _warning_ in them.

_He refused to allow these people to get involved._

“Let go.”

The hitman’s hand tightened on his shoulder and the man leaned in, pulling Harry in closer to his body.

“Lackey…” Reborn growled as his fingers sparked with Flames.

Emerald eyes turned his way and pinned Reborn in place with the rage and pain in their depths, but as he watched the green faded into vivid purple. It took the Sun a moment to realize that Skull’s eyes were glowing with his Flames and not just the normal amethyst he had always had.

( _He ignores the memory of Skull jokingly quipping about ‘lanterns for eyes’ that would ‘give you away for miles Senpai!’_ )

That was bad news. It meant that something was pushing Skull into dangerous levels of rage and managing to prod at the instincts that came with being a Cloud at the same time.

Clouds were the second rarest Flame Type after Sky. They were rare because most didn’t survive into teen years much less adulthood, mainly because they were possessive little fucks and were perfectly willing to get into the face of anyone who stood in their way. Most of these Clouds would eventually run into someone who was stronger than them and they’d keep going back for more until they won or were dead. Other Clouds were found by Families and recruited due to the status boost that came with having a Cloud following the Family.

Some were lucky- like Hibari- and were recruited properly so they wanted to be there. Others were forced into serving the Family and would die trying to escape or would be smothered to death. No Cloud could be chained. They _needed_ freedom like they needed air. If a Cloud was ‘chained’ somewhere for too long it would smother them and they would go out in a blaze of rage and death. The stronger a Cloud was the worse it would be.

Something had stepped all over Skull’s instincts. Reborn allowed the Flames to die, and eased his grip, shifting his weight backwards as he did so. He kept his emotions out of his voice, going for neutral instead of commanding.

“What happened?”

He watched as Skull took a breath. His eyes slid closed.

Harry wanted to be selfish. Just once, he wanted to do what _he_ wanted. Damn everyone else, ignore them all and do whatever the hell _he wanted_.

He knew he could wipe the memories away from the Arcobaleno, that he could make it so they didn’t even know anything was wrong. He knew he could make the whole issue go away, but he _didn’t want to_. He’d already lied to them about his past, Harry _refused_ to play with their minds the way he had played with Death Eaters and Ministry workers. They were the closest thing he had to family, beyond the Weasleys and the closer surviving members of the D.A..

He _refused_.

These were his family members staring at him. You _didn’t do that_ to family. He didn’t want to do that to them.

So told them a part of the truth, his eyes blazing violet as he allowed his anger to ignite and overcome the temporary apathy and calm he was forcing on himself, and gave this one thing.

“ _They_ took something that is _mine_ and I will ensure it **_never happens again_**. As I _should have done_ **_years_** _ago._ ”

Harry pulled his shoulder away from Reborn’s grip and begins to walk away again, this time without interference.

 

* * *

 

The Arcobaleno’s eyes widen.

They had long ago realized that Skull was a Cloud that claimed _people_ as his territory. He had informates and crews for his airships and people who he took a liking to who he provided protection for, regardless if they asked. The pieces they had been given rearranged in their head, snapping to form another picture entirely of the situation.

Skull was angry in a way they had never seen before.

Skull was angry enough to unhesitatingly and unflinchingly render that man in the bar _braindead_ and then _burn his still living body_ as he walked by.

‘ _They_ ’ had taken something Skull considered ‘ _his_ ’.

Skull was in a towering rage even now, and he was leaving to ‘ _deal_ ’ with it, ' _to ensure it_ **_never happens again_   _'_**.

So that left them with the knowledge that someone had taken someone their Cloud considered important and had either hurt them or killed them. They remembered the way he screamed.

_Had some fucker killed someone precious to Skull? Had they then been sent to either inform him or bring him to see?_

The Arcobaleno remember that phantom sensation of chains locking down over them, the one that had pulsed over their links with the Cloud and they _still_.

 _Had this entire situation been arranged to force an appearance from their Cloud, to_ make _him react? To maneuver the Cloud Arcobaleno in a way that he_ could not _ignore? That would_ force _a response born of emotion?_

 

* * *

 

Skull takes the moment the Arcobaleno are absorbing what he has told them to stride away from them. Each step is painful and he can feel as Skull slips away and The-Man-Who-Conquered rises from the ashes.

That’s painful too.

All the more reason to ensure he is never called upon again.

The sneer that pulls at his lips is worthy of his old Potions Professor at his finest.

They had taken Fred and George with Bill and Fleur to lure him in. Their children had escaped and Harry suspected the survivors of the D.A. had intervened. That man-wizard in the bar had had it all in his mind, laid out in neat little plans. Skull knew what they planned now, what was happening and what they wanted from him and how far they were willing to go to _get_ it.

Fair enough.

Harry had learned quite a few new tricks since the last time the Wizarding World had seen him. The populace was about to get one hell of a wakeup call about their _‘Savior.’_

They were about to meet _Skull_ the _Cloud, Skull,_ the _Arcobaleno_ and these _bastards_ would quickly learn just how far a Cloud, how far _Skull_ was willing to go to defend what was _his_.

There was only one thing Skull miscalculated in all the plans in his head. That his feelings towards Reborn, Colonello, Viper, Verde, Fon, Lal and Yuni _were,_ in fact, returned sentiments. How far _he_ was willing to go was also just about how far the other _Arcobaleno_ were willing to go for _him_. For _family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting these edited chapters in bursts of five until I've caught up, so make sure you pay attention!! 
> 
> Also! North and I have Tumblrs now! Come find us under the WolfsRainRules and north-peach!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE HAVE THE NEXT FIVE EDITED CHAPTERS. (It's 4am I am so tired.)

Skull leaves the Arcobaleno behind, storming from the clearing, his mind whirling through what he has learned and what his response is going to be. The purple staining his hair is fading into black as his magic surges, his shoulders are pulled back and his spine is straight.

There’s grace to his walk, an edge of military precision to his manner and there’s nothing they know of Skull in the man that walks away from the Arcobaleno.

They don’t follow after that man.

Not because they don’t  _ want _ to follow him, but because they don’t know exactly what is happening. That’s not Skull, Skull who caves to every demand, every order, who cowers and blusters, and has never,  _ ever _ presented himself as a  _ Cloud. _ That’s no one they’ve ever met. The World’s Strongest Cloud in the midst of a Rage who wears the face of a simple  _ stuntman. _

Mammon hisses in displeasure under her hood. She is lacking in information. There is nothing she’s dug up on Skull that would fit this situation. 

As far as the Arcobaleno know Skull is only dealing with Mafia. The extent of their experiences only cover Flames, the Mafia and maybe rumors of  _ other. _ So at this point, at the display of  _ Rage _ , the switch in personality and appearance, they  _ hesitate.  _ He may be the ‘weakest’ of the Arcobaleno, but he is still an Arcobaleno. He’s displaying all the proper signs of a Cloud he’s previously  _ lacked. _ Regardless of their opinion of Skull himself, they trust that as a Cloud raging in defense of something that is considered  _ ‘his’ _ he may even take offense if he is denied his chance to rage at the cause. If it is implied he cannot do it himself. Especially when Skull has never Raged in their presence before, when it is so rare as to be nonexistent in their knowledge up to this point.

So they hesitate, even as they feel uneasy and confused.

Considering they don’t know about the war Skull has lead, the magic that is the root of all this- considering  _ they don’t know _ about the different factions all fighting to cage their Cloud into a previously abandoned role, they could be forgiven for this hesitation. 

After all, they don’t know that Skull is marching back into a mess that has centered around their Cloud since he was eleven years old. One that ensured he grew up in an abusive house and drafted him into a war the very day he took his first breath- a war that only ended when he sacrificed his life to kill the opposing leader and managed to succeed despite all the odds.

Not  _ yet _ .

**LINEBREAK**

Skull’s re-entrance to the Wizarding World is entirely subtle and done with an ease of an expert that Reborn literally beat into his head.  _ (Aside from what he had learned during the war, at any rate) _ He is cautious and  _ quiet. _ The man doesn’t need the distractions and flamboyant behavior of Skull to hide behind, but even so, he holds his rage close, despite his intense desire to just  _ burn _ everything all down around him until he found his family in the Wizarding World.

Harry would have. Harry would have raged across Diagon Alley, like lightning, all righteous fury and justice, spitting fire and leaving shattered windows and crumbled stone in his wake. Perhaps he would have rode on the back of a dragon, a thestral or a hippogriff. He would have drawn attention,  _ demanded _ his enemies come to him lest he was made to hunt them down himself. He hated it- attention the likes of which the wizards gave him- but he would have  _ used it _ , to bring his family to his attention. Would have worked it to his advantage. 

Not the World’s Strongest Cloud though.

Harry’s experiences with war, his childhood self, learning to lessen the attention on him so Vernon didn’t beat him beyond what he would endure and Petunia didn’t starve him beyond what he could ignore. The parts of Skull that are cruel and cold and  _ terrifying,  _ the ones he has always hidden from the others, the ones he had honed in survival at the Dursley house and then leading and fighting in a war. 

That is what makes up who he is right now.

Knowledge is power, and he has  _ learned _ . He forged his own patience and learned the art of information gathering at the knee of the world’s best. Honed the foundations of skills he had taught himself in warfare. The method of waiting until the moment is  _ right _ , before he struck. This part of himself has learned the art of sabotage. Has watched and mimicked the ways of an assassin, a mercenary for hire. He has none of the hesitations or compassion of Harry, nor the need of Skull’s entire foundation of hiding everything of importance beneath a veneer of clueless exuberance, bright colors and loud voices.

He will not hesitate to destroy what threatens what he counts as  _ mine _ and his rage will be more like the wrath of the gods then the desperate anger of a hurting child.

His hair was naturally violet from his Flames- the vivid purple of his eyes from channeling his Flames as he would magic. He could easily switch between his natural looks and Skull’s appearance, but he had to continuously choose one or the other based on magic or Flames. If he used both...his hair would usually remain violet, while his eyes would lighten to his famous green.

It was a magical accident stemming from the combination of Flames and magic  _ (not that anyone knew, since the accident had happened after he left the Wizarding World and before Checkerface- they think it is dye and Skull lets them since it fits Skull’s ‘flamboyant and flashy attitude’ after all.) _ . He leaves his hair as it is- let the wizards think he is just a metamorphmagus wandering the alley- or even a young wizard in a rebellious phase. He does wear colored contacts however- his eyes now appear to be black and he leaves his punk style clothes on- black leather, combat boots, piercings and all. 

It sells the image.

It also guarantees he’s as far from ‘Harry Potter’ as he could be, as far as any witch or wizard looking his way is concerned. 

Fools. Common sense is not common in such a world where magic is prevalent. A loss for sure.

His gain though. After all, why listen to people when they tell you that you  _ can’t _ do something? Obviously, you should try it before you decide it’s  _ impossible. _

Harry- or is it Skull?- spends the next week slinking around in plain sight, gathering more in-depth information on the Wizarding World’s movements since he had been away.  He pulls on every lesson he had ever taught himself in an abusive home, where this skill meant his survival, and every tip and trick he had absorbed from observing Viper in her element. 

He had never  _ not _ kept an eye on the British Enclaves. They wanted to cage him after all, so Skull has watched from afar. That wasn’t the same as up close and personal information gathering. The murmurs of the populace as they read the morning paper. The comments on their leadership and the newly passed laws and regulations. 

He learns this in the first week of his return- the rise of Neo-Eaters. A new generation of Death Eaters. Death Eaters being trained to move around in political situations rather than out in the open. No more torturing, raping and murdering and leaving a calling sign. This is done behind closed doors. 

He learns of the laws that were passed in a bundle, or under the notice of those that were sympathetic to his cause all those years ago. The racism and bigotry more carefully hidden, the prettied up lies mixed in with words like  _ ‘change is needed’, ‘we must advance’, ‘the new age of magic’ _ . He learns of shadow tactics that are employed, of the ‘accidents’ the befall those who still remember the war and  _ who _ exactly  _ fought it _ .   _ This _ war is taking place in the shadows and alleyways, all hidden from the public eye.

It’s much harder to pass the blatantly racist laws and actions out in the open after the war with Riddle. The people trying to manage it have to be cunning and sneaky and rather good at prettying up anything they want passed so it doesn’t appear to be anything but equal treatment. Extra measures for these minorities, ‘they’re different so they must be treated differently to ensure they’re treated equally.’ 

It’s with frustration and disgust that he learns of the subtle way Purebloods are managing to suppress the Muggleborns. Learns that these things are slipping under the radar because the laws are not read carefully enough- because people don’t  _ care _ enough. He learns of the few that have noticed and are fighting to stop it with little support. And if that someone  _ questions _ too much, stirs the pot, well...Skull had seen this result often enough. He learns of the dark and dirty way people are having ‘accidents’ of the increase in ‘disappearances’.

Honestly, Harry wishes he could be surprised. He’s not. The majority of Wizarding Britain all cowered and hid in their homes while their children fought for freedom, justice and equality. The danger is long since passed, but the cause of Voldemort’s rise still lingers in the apathy and ignorance of the people.

He learns of the fear the Neo-Eaters have of him. Their knowledge that ‘Harry Potter’ would have fought viciously against this. Their knowledge that Harry would have  _ noticed _ and pointed it out. Their knowledge that if  _ Harry Potter Man-Who-Conquered _ spoke against them, against any of them, the people would listen and their powerbase would crumble. That all the work they had managed in his absence would be for  _ nothing _ .

He learned that the people fighting against the Neo-Eaters  _ knew _ this. That this ‘Neo-Order’ had been searching for him endlessly even as they fought the Neo-Eaters. That they wanted a leader the people would rally behind, a leader they could  _ trust _ .

He learned that this Order had been constantly going to Fred and George, to Bill and Fleur to learn his whereabouts, to learn anything they could use and that by doing so had lead the Neo-Eaters right to their doorstep.

He learned the four had been taken, but their children escaped. No one had told Charlie, who was still in Romania. He doesn’t know where Teddy is, but there are signs that those still loyal to him, those he commanded so long ago, took his godson away to safety. 

To Blaise Zabini, most likely. The Slytherin was on their side, more neutral then Light and he was definitely part of the mafia so he had contacts and connections to keep Teddy safe from everything short of an army.

The DA tended to travel in sets, old war habits meaning they kept to a ‘battle buddy’ system that would allow ease in dealing with most situations. Bill and Fleur were missing, but the twins- or a keyed in member of the DA, whoever was present at the time- would have retreated to the Burrow with the children and engaged all the wards. Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom would have offered up their manors to the rest of their people, waiting until Harry arrived before they made any loud or explosive moves. He was half waiting for an owl or Patronus before he made any large scale destructive plans.

Harry may have had a saving-people-thing, but  _ Skull _ did not. Skull was ruled by apathy and amused himself in tormenting those around him for the facial expression they made at his utter stupidity. What did he care if the world burned around him?

He would save  _ his _ people and no one else. 

Harry may have rallied against the Neo-Eaters and led the charge against them, may have fought in the shadows against what Skull recognizes as assassinations and hits, but  _ Skull _ , Skull who had just learned that all his work as Harry, all his suffering, all his  **_loss_ ** **,** all his blood and tears, his  _ death _ and his revival had been for  _ nothing _ ... His efforts were  _ spat _ on and he was simply another page in history that would be ignored in favor of the  _ Goblin Wars… _

Skull would not. 

People were following along like _sheep_ as the Neo-Eaters led them to a Pureblood Supremacy-era Harry had fought so hard against, that the Order that fought against, they had not only _failed_ to stop it from happening, but _split_ _their attention_ between the issue and looking for him to do it _for them_ …

The fact that they had not only looked for him to solve their problems, but they had  _ led the enemy _ to his  **family** meant that Skull  _ would not hesitate  _ to  _ remove _ the  _ problem. _ By the root, and everything that came up with it.

It meant that Skull would do nothing more than  **_burn_ ** the issue in front of him away. He would make sure his wizarding family was safe, he would  **_demolish_ ** the Neo-Eaters that had taken his family, and then he would make sure the entire Wizarding World never called on him again  **_even if he had to destroy them all_ ** .

Skull may have helped a bit before leaving out of a twisted sense of duty, because it had  _ always _ been him to clean up the messes of the Wizarding World as they were placed in his path ever since he had been eleven years old, he may have helped because of the memory of his first friends, those Weasleys who had died, but these people had placed his family straight in the middle of their mess, placed their lives in danger and he  _ knew _ Fleur was pregnant with another little one...and that changed things for Skull.

Everyone had a limit. Everyone had a line they drew in the sand. Everyone had a place where they would fight back.

It didn’t matter if they had been abused or beaten down, it didn’t matter if they stood at the top of the food chain. He didn’t care if they were in perfect health, if they had broken both legs and were bleeding all over the ground. It wasn’t an issue if they were the biggest serial killer to have walked the earth or the kindest man or women to be born, who had never said a bad word about anyone. Conditioning didn’t matter, morals  _ didn’t matter _ ; laws  **_didn’t matter_ ** .

None of that mattered in the long run.  **_Everyone_ ** had a moment where they had  **_enough_ ** , everyone had a moment where they would lash out, everyone had something that would shove them over the knife edge they balanced on. Everyone had a line in the sand that should  _ not _ be crossed.

Everyone had a snapping point.

Skull’s was finding out his family was in the hands of people who fought like the mafia- who murdered in the shadows and manipulated the political side in the light all the name of Voldemort’s legacy. This was his snapping point.

He’d been immersed in the Mafia long enough, had survived a bloody war on the front lines, been surrounded by the world’s very best killers long enough that Skull was not opposed to the idea of simply taking the problem out at the roots if provided a suitable reason to do so. Threatening the few family members he had left in the world, those that had walked the down the same path, fighting for freedom alongside him or those who left the battlefield to linger in the shadows of the Mafia at his side was  _ plenty _ of reason.

These Neo-Eaters?

This Neo-Order?

Harry may have fought them, but Skull…Skull was an assassin. He was an assassin who had drawn a line in the sand and had it stomped on and  _ way  _ over.

And he would not give them a third chance at his family to get at him.  

In the sky above him, an owl swooped down, bearing a seal of the Zabini family.

 

_ “Teddy’s safe. B&F’s children safe. _

_ Allies behind walls. _

_ All those who can be trusted have been told. _

_ Happy Hunting. _


	7. Chapter 7

 

His second week….his second week in the Wizarding World was spent searching out the exact members of each party, their numbers, their homes, their views, their actions and lack of action…he researched each member as thoroughly as he could manage. He found scraps of information around his hiding places. Things like what kind of wards each member prefered on their homes, when they were seen in public, what they voted on in the closed sessions of the Ministry.

His allies were limited in what they would do, but they showed their support and he felt warmth creep into his chest at the knowledge. Those happier thoughts usually invited memories of Reborn and the others.

He would admit, he even missed the Arcobaleno- it would go much faster with them at his side, but he would not drag them into his war. Not to mention the fact that the Arcobaleno had  **_no_ ** experience with magic and all the things it would allow a wizard or witch to manage. It was a  _ much _ more…flexible…sort of medium when compared to Flames. He had no doubt at all that they would adapt, that they would dominate a fight with any magic folk given the proper amount of time and training but…

Skull didn’t have the time to teach them. His family was in danger  _ now _ . The only other people Skull may have trusted aside from himself to prepare the Arcobaleno for fighting magic users were the people he was going in to rescue or those who were already helping him now.

So he would act alone.

Besides. Skull  _ really _ wanted to maim the people who had dared to touch his family himself. He knew himself enough to know he’d get… _ twitchy _ if anyone tried to get in the way of that.

So his second week was spent using a combination of all the magic and habits he had learned during the war, and all the tricks and trades he had learned during his thirty three years in the mafia gathering information on his targets. Old habits and knowledge slid easily to the surface to blend with the newer ones. The pieces of himself that he buried were unearthed and he couldn’t help but whisper the incantations of spells he hasn’t used in  _ decades. _

Skull didn’t think he’d  _ ever _ forget the things he had learned to do and the person he become on a warfront. It had always been there, ruthlessly suppressed in the presence of the Arcobaleno, but here and now Harry was marching into war as a one-man-army and it was as easy as breathing to slide back into old habits made all the more deadly by his stint in the mafia.

Week three….week three was the beginning of the end for the wizards- not that they realized it at first.

Week three was where Skull began to slip and slink through the shadows taking people out of the picture  _ permanently _ . At each place he visited, he left a vivid violet colored, tribal looking cloud motif on the walls for both his enemies and Aurors to find at each site. The image would spread into the populace via some slip or another and soon he would be front page  _ Daily Prophet _ news.

He had never been the sort of man to brag about kills or anything, but he made an exception this time for two reasons.

The first: he wanted the wizards to whisper about it, he wanted the news of someone taking out Neo-Eaters and leaving  _ that _ mark behind to spread. His family would know what it meant, his allies would as well. They would hear about it- either from the newspaper, whisper in the Ministry or somewhere- and know he was here to set things to right.

The second…

The second was purely from his Cloud instincts. He wanted these people to  **_know_ ** he was coming for them. He wanted them to  **_know_ ** he had been the one to do it- even if they didn’t know who he was yet or  _ why _ he was doing what he was doing. He wanted the Neo-Eaters to  **_panic_ ** as their numbers slowly diminished, as it hit them that  **_all of them_ ** would be hunted down, no matter where they went or what defenses were placed in his way.

Inverted Clouds were  _ much _ more dangerous to anger then their Classic brethren. The whole mafia world whispered of the Classic’s rage, the destruction they left in their footsteps.

This is because Classic Clouds raged in and demolished everything in their path in the way of whatever target had roused the anger. They left survivors to spread the story. Inverted Clouds…were different. They had a much longer fuse, so when something  **_did_ ** manage to set them off, Inverted Clouds didn’t rage, rush in to carve a swath of destruction through whatever pissed them off. They  _ plotted _ . They were meticulous. They hunted their prey down, stalked in from the shadows before lashing out.

Classic Clouds were natural disasters. They left an impression, people saw them coming and were demolished if they did not leave the line of fire. It was possible to weather the storm if they were not the main target of a Classic’s rage so people were left in the path of their destruction and were able to spread warnings to others. Inverted Clouds were predators. They  _ hunted. _ No one was left untouched. They would hunt every single person and piece involved with their target down and, if they saw a reason,  _ destroy _ them. No one was left to whisper warnings about the Inverted Cloud when they were done.

Skull was going  _ hunting _ .

**LINEBREAK**

Skull relished in the panic of the Neo-Eaters.

He knew they didn’t suspect  _ Harry Potter _ to be the one whittling their numbers down.  _ (Harry was the  _ ‘savior’ _ after all- a bright and shining war hero and perfect example of a Light Wizard who would  _ never  _ sink to killing them this way) _ This has the benefit of ensuring his family wasn’t threatened and that his family was being moved with the surviving members. He knew that. They had left him their own signs in the rooms they had been held in. He had just ripped information from the minds of the Neo-Eaters he found and jumped from base to base, carving his way through them so he knew where to look when he got there, and he recognized that his family was still alive and knew he was coming for them.

Good.

If his family had been harmed…well.

It would have gotten  **_much worse_ ** for the Neo-Eaters.

It doesn’t even cross his mind that he hadn’t called or checked in with any of the Arcobaleno since he had stormed away. He doesn’t think about how he has fallen into war patterns. He doesn’t think about the last time he actually ate, or the last time he had slept more than an hour for every twelve he was active.

He doesn’t pause to think beyond the knowledge required to take out everything Neo-Eater in his path, and keep himself in fighting condition. 

Considering the circumstances of what Skull considered ‘ _ fighting condition _ ’ and what he had faced in the past with worse than he was doing to himself, Skull wasn’t really taking care of himself as he should. After all, he grew up accustomed to being on the cusp of starvation until he turned eleven. Then it was almost starving every summer. And then there was the slim amount of food to be found while on the run, and hunted, while at war. He fought through impossible odds his entire life and won through all of them.

Besides, the Arcobaleno were used to leaving Skull as the odd one out. He went years without contact with one of his fellow cursed companions. They weren’t magic anyway and he didn’t have time to deal with their preconceived notions about him. Granted, he reinforced those every time they interacted, so they couldn’t be blamed for that. But the fact remained that he didn’t have time for them.

His condition, was one he was well acquainted with. Alone, with limited supplies and work to be done that no one else would do. It wasn’t affecting his warpath across the British Magical Community  _ (without magic  _ or  _ Flames so he wouldn’t draw the Ministry or Vindice to his location- just old fashioned straight up killing)  _ in the slightest.

So Harry just kept going.

It’s only a matter of time before the Potter Luck strikes again and something goes wrong.

This turns out to be in the middle of a highly warded mansion of one of the ‘earth shakers’ in the Neo-Eater party. One of the members that really knew what they were doing, who pushed through the laws and legislature so cleverly worded and twisted to the Neo-Eater’s agenda that the mafia man in Skull would appreciate it, if it wasn’t aimed against him, he would have admired how no one was the wiser in any other situation.

It just so happens that this fucker had targeted some of his, and Skull had a track record of toppling regimes that targeted his people.

Harry gets in without issue, and even succeeds in killing the majority of the people in the mansion aligned with the Neo-Eaters without alerting anyone. _ (He takes a few dives into the Neo-Eaters’ heads as well to pull more information from them. His Occlumency isn’t much better then when he was in school, but he’s got lots of trauma to throw at anyone who tries to enter. Not to mention most wizards had no idea how to handle Flames. His Legilimency is  _ honed _ and  _ practiced. _ ) _

The issue pops up when he walks straight into a  _ meeting _ . Because  _ of course he does.  _ It was exactly the kind of thing that would only happen to a Potter.

_ (Skull was of the opinion that somewhere in the past a very,  _ **_very_ ** _ powerful Chinese magical had cursed his family line  _ ‘may you live in interesting times’ _. Fon’s ancestors probably had something to do with it, because that was his luck.) _

Naturally, it erupts into a fight almost immediately. Everyone’s got to stare for a moment in astonishment as what appears to be a muggle crashing their super secret meeting. So Harry goes for overpowering some of his basic spells. You can catch a lot of people with a highly overpowered  _ Reducto. _

In the end, Skull kills everyone in the mansion before they can alert anyone, but not before the earth shaker himself, the Neo-Eater who would have died one thousand times over in the first five minutes if he had not kept using others as meat shields, was the one to land a glancing blow with an oddly colored spell he didn’t recognize.

It turned out to be all that was needed to cause even more problems as Potter Luck kicked in with a vengeance for the second time.

( _ God, it was second year with a fucking Basilisk all over again _ .)


	8. Chapter 8

 

Harry cursed in every language he knew. Gobbledegook was particularly satisfying, even in his current condition.

He had no idea what the hell the curse the Neo-Eater hit him with actually  _ was _ , but it was making him bleed almost too fast for his Flames to keep up with the blood loss. It resisted every use of magic he had tried against it. The curse had opened multiple wounds over his body and caused him to bleed faster than should be humanly possible. Trying to close the wounds by multiplying his own skin cells with Flames after magic had failed to help had caused the curse to not only  _ reopen _ the wound but open up  _ two more _ .

He’d been multiplying his own blood cells since near the exact moment the curse had managed a glancing graze of a wound against him. It wasn’t even that much of a nick, but it was enough for the spell to do as intended and rip open what looked like four inch long deep knife wounds in multiple places. His Flames were the only reason he was still breathing- unlike the  _ fool _ to have cast the damn thing. 

_ (He wished he could have taken his time with that particular kill, but blood loss meant he needed to be quick and get out, especially since he _ couldn’t heal himself _ ) _

His magic didn’t work against it, and his Flames were too busy frantically keeping him alive to do anything to help him after that initial attempt. _ (Not that he  _ would, _ since even direct application of his Flames to the area only seemed to make more curse-wounds.) _

Skull couldn’t go to a normal hospital with a curse-afflicted wound and he couldn’t go to St. Mungo’s or he’d be recognized and detained ‘for his own good’. But he  _ needed _ help- he was woozy and lightheaded and nauseous- and if he passed out before he got help there would be no saving him.

That leaves the Arcobaleno. Specifically  _ Reborn. _

He’s angry about it- he hadn’t wanted them involved  _ at all _ and this will absolutely get them involved  _ (violently too- Skull had long ago learned that while the Arcobaleno might push him around, yell and hit, they were the  _ **_only_ ** _ ones allowed to do so as far as they were concerned) _ but Harry  _ needs _ the help.

He curses some more even as he staggers as black spots crowd his vision and his head suddenly feels ten pounds lighter.

_ No choice then. _

The thought crosses his mind even as he prepares to use his depleted magic. It’s not working against the curse- whatever it was- but he could still apparate. He’s a magical powerhouse and yes, he’s lost a lot of blood and yes, his magic is doing it’s best to lessen the damage, but there’s enough to make that distance.

It’s hard to focus through the blood loss he’s suffering from even with his Flames working overtime to replace the blood but he’s  _ Skull de Mort _ . He’s Skull, he’s  _ Harry Potter _ and he has determination enough to topple entire governments if he wants, so he turns on his heel and apparates.

There’s a chance no one will be there. There’s a chance he’ll splinch himself. He might have miscalculated the distance, his magic any number of things-  _ he might not make it. _

He’s  _ Harry- _ fucking _ -Potter. _

His landing is less than graceful. It jars his injuries, sending white hot shards of pain through his body as he crashes into the ground. The breath  _ whooshes _ out of him and his vision is graying out alarmingly, but he can see enough to confirm that he hasn’t lost any body parts. That was good. He didn’t need anything else on his person to start bleeding while these curse wounds were in effect.

Blood loss is bad.

Sensing other people’s Flames takes a moment to orientate himself, because it’s hard and it’s a magical thing and magic is low at the moment, but he almost passes out in relief because he can  _ feel them. _

The sense quickly fades, but he knows the Arcobaleno are heading his way even if he can’t see them yet. His arrival would sound like a gunshot, but  _ wrong _ . That would draw them in like nothing else. On full alert with weapons and swift steps.

Which was good.

Harry didn’t think he could get his weak limbs to push himself back to his feet to call out or anything other then try to stay awake.

**LINEBREAK**

The Arcobaleno are on edge and, quite frankly, angry. There’s worry and concern lurking in there somewhere but anger is easier.

Skull had stormed away after that fateful day where he had lost control of his Flames  _ weeks _ ago and they had heard nothing from their Cloud since.

That wasn’t  _ normal _ .

Skull was a worrier when it came to people he cared for, he demanded updates from all of them when they left their main base of operations for any sort of job. It hadn’t always been so- there had been a time where they ignored one another- but once their bonds had been established that had changed. The Arcobaleno had only ever needed to see  _ one _ incident where Verde had failed to call in to decide to  _ never _ break the tradition again. Granted, they went years without speaking to one another, caught up in their own lives and business, but when they were in contact, when they went on missions, Skull demanded updates.

They all concluded it was his Cloudy tenancies showing themselves, what little the man possessed so they allowed it. It was useful. Skull had started the habit, but it had spread amongst each other so that they kept their eyes on each other through these quick messages and updates. Especially since the curse was lifted, they had come together, bonded better than they had in the beginning, so this was completely out of the established behaviors that Skull exhibated. 

It was all the confirmation they had needed to know the infamous Cloud temper  _ did _ in fact lurk within their obnoxious Cloud and was just as impressive as the rumors claimed (if not more so). 

Keeping in contact with one another had become an ironclad rule with them- they updated each other via texts when they went out on missions, when they arrived and when they were on the way back. Plus periodic check-ins in-between or they told the others that ‘radio silence’ was required. Even if it was small things, like pictures or just Reborn and Colonello bragging about kills. 

Over three weeks without a word from their Cloud and no sign of him raging  _ anywhere _ in the Mafia world and they were all antsy and on edge and  _ angry. _ Looking for him turned up nothing, calling got voicemail, searching for him did no good. And  **_when_ ** had Skull gotten so good at hiding that  **_they_ ** couldn’t find him when they wanted to? Mammon was throwing a fit that her most hated ability was used so often and with no readable results. 

So that left the question: _ where was he? _

The sound of a single shot of gunfire- it’s off somehow, it’s not  _ quite _ gunfire and they all  _ know _ it, but it definitely isn’t the sound of a car backfiring and  _ no one _ should be able to get that close to their home without alerting them, not with Verde’s improvements and especially considering that literally no one knows this mansion even  _ exists _ \- gets their attention. It doesn’t even cross Viper’s mind that this could be  _ Apparation _ because who did she know that was magical and able to get onto the property?

Reborn is the first one out the door, vanishing into the shadows, Colonello right on his heels, rifle already in his hands. They move out, sliding through their land like the shadows in firelight. Swift and soundless, flickering from place to place from pure speed, there and then gone in a blink.

It’s Mammon that spots Skull first and only because she feels the  _ twang _ of magic against her Flames. The noise that leaves her lips is entirely involuntary. Her reaction instantly draws the other’s attention and when their gazes land on what arrests her attention, they all still when they see what draw such a reaction from their Mist.

Eyes widen in disbelief, in horror, even as weapons are lowered and some take quick, sharp steps forwards, but no sound escapes their throats. Their gazes are glued to a terrible sight, and not one of the Arcobaleno even  _ breathe _ for a moment. Out of all the situations they imagined, this was  _ not _ one of them.

Even though he hadn’t checked in, they hadn’t,  not once,  _ never _ once, had  **any** of them thought that  _ this _ may be the reason why Skull didn’t reach out to contact them in some way. He was an odd Cloud, none of his reactions fit anything they knew so they just marked this reaction down as one of his Cloud problems.

If they had thought for even a  _ fraction _ of a second that their Cloud wasn’t able to handle whatever he intended to do, they wouldn’t have been nearly as accepting of their failure in searching for him. They wouldn’t have just retreated to the mansion and decided to wait for Skull.

_ (They shove the horrifying image from the Future-That-Never-Was, that image of their Cloud crumbling to the ground with the gaping hole in the side of his head out of their minds. The image that would haunt them all for the rest of time.) _

Reborn is the first to break out into a run.

He is the World’s Best Hitman and he trusts his own instincts to alert him to any danger the other Arcobaleno miss, but more than that, Reborn is the  **_Sun_ ** and it is his job to heal the other Elements in his Sky when they cannot help themselves.

His job to heal Skull.

Skull who is sprawled out face down in a puddle of blood every single one of the Arcobaleno  _ know _ should mean he was dead from blood loss hours ago. The amount is at least twice the entire contains of a human body. He’s clearly not since they can see that he’s still breathing shallowly and blood is  _ still _ rushing from his body in a way that is entirely unnatural.

Reborn’s slacks are instantly soaked in blood as he kneels down and reaches out for their Cloud and flips him over to see the wounds. Skull is wearing an odd kind of armor, made of some kind of scales, but it slides off easily enough, leaving tiny rivers of blood to flow freely over pale skin and the dips created by muscles and bones.

_ Clever bastard. _

Reborn has the absent thought, recognizing instantly what Skull has done to keep up with his loss of blood as his hands light up with Sun Flames and clamp onto the torn flesh nearest to his heart.

He notices immediately that Skull is still conscious, if only barely, as his eyes are glazed and unable to focus on him and his features, rather just barely aware enough to know that a person is hovering in his space. Reborn grits his teeth and fights off a memories that is crowding close to the surface of his mind-

(- _ he had been too late, one side of Skull’s head was completely gone, the half of his skull still intact glaring at him with one unfocused violet eye and his lips pulled back in one last defiant snarl- _ ) 

He breathes in and tastes iron. A moment after, just as Reborn sinks his Sun Flames below the surface, of Skull’s skin, he feels the Cloud’s body shutter. He ignores the other Arcobaleno who have all rushed to their side even as they carefully search the area for any threats. His attention is focused on the sudden  _ surge _ of Flames from Skull.

His lids lift as something sharp and focused, something dangerous and  _ feral _ flashes in Skull’s eyes clearing the glassy unfocused gleam away like a lightning strike, while a hand flashes out coated in blood and  _ locks _ around his wrist. 

**_“Do not.”_ **

It’s a command, that everyone can hear even as Skull’s voice is rougher than sandpaper, dry and ragged but sharp enough with the edges of Flame that Reborn stills.

**LINEBREAK**

Skull sensed the exact moment the Arcobaleno saw him. Their Flames had all collectively, eerily, frozen before surging throughout their bodies in preparation for action. In the moment between, all natural movement had ceased, like the dead air before a hurricane.

It takes a moment before he hears one of them run to his side. He’s barely conscious as he feels his body be rolled over. His eyes aren’t really focusing, but he knows that Flame so warm at his side, and even if he hadn’t sensed it he would recognize the dark silhouette of Reborn leaning over him long before anything else had given the man away. Long before the gleaming yellow Flames flare to life in his hands and cover the wounds on his chest.

Skull knows he plans to help him, had in fact chosen to come to the Arcobaleno with that purpose, but not yet. No, Skull knows Reborn can’t yet, he isn’t sure what Flames are  _ doing _ , how they are interacting, with this strange curse, but after experiencing his own…

He doesn’t want to imagine what Reborn’s ‘Activation’ might cause when paired with it. Maybe nothing, but Skull trusts his gut and his luck enough to  _ not _ allow Reborn free reign with his Flames just yet.

In his state of injury and blood loss, Skull’s thoughts are not so clear and rational. He runs on instinct, on gut feeling, a vague sense of urgency, and half remembered thoughts. All he can really remember is that he needs to be careful of Flames, that they shouldn’t touch him yet. He knows that loss of rational, logical thought, the loss of clear memories, is quite a bit  _ not good _ . Still he can’t quite remember why, and in the lack of knowing, it is easy- instinctive- to fall back on war instincts.  

Skull had long ago learned as Harry to ignore life-threatening wounds for periods of time while he fought to ensure he’d live after he was down. This instinct rages through his brain a surge of adrenaline and his magic reacting to his instinctive knowledge that if any more wounds were ripped open on him (what he assumes Flames will do to him) it would  _ kill him _ and his eyes clear. Adrenaline and magic allow Skull to move his blood coated hand striking out and clamping over Reborn’s stilling the move his Sun was making to help him. 

He manages only two words, sharp with command and audible, no matter how it hurts to form the words. But it’s enough. The hitman ceases his efforts. The effort takes a lot out of him, because as soon as Reborn has stilled Skull wavers. Adrenaline and magic fade and his bloody hand slips from Reborn’s wrist. Sounds vanish and his eyes begin to roll back on the edge of nothingness.

Harry doesn’t have much time.

He knows Viper has magic. He had realized long ago. Fighting a war with magic on the front lines meant that Skull was very,  _ very _ attuned to the use of it- even if it was small amounts. He’d never brought it up-  _ Skull _ wouldn’t know of magic after all- and since he had never really  _ used _ any magic in Viper’s presence he doesn’t believe she knows that he knows about it. Still….Viper will be able to sense the curse magic on him if she pays attention. He just needs to make her pay attention.

He only manages to gasp two more words, slurred and almost inaudible, before his mind retreats- not unconscious but completely unaware of the world as he focuses only on his Flames and keeping himself alive. Let the others worry about the rest of it. He’ll just make sure he has enough blood in his body to be alive when they finish.

“Viper….sa’ _ curse _ …”

**LINEBREAK**

Mammon straightens at the sound of her name her eyes narrowing beneath her hood as her mind flashes through various reasons Skull would mention the word ‘ _ curse _ ’ to her specifically.

She wants to brush it off as unimportant but her instincts are sharp, and she has long ago learned to trust them. Skull is obviously dying. There’s a factor here that prevents him from accepting help. Something has to be done that  _ she, specifically _ must do.

Her Cloud had asked for her after stopping Reborn. All of the Arcobaleno knew how to think through things like blood loss and pain, so even if most people would brush off his reaction of pushing their healer away from him, they wouldn’t. There was a reason they hadn’t seen yet. One that only she knew.

What does _Viper_ have or know that the others _do not?_

It takes a frantic few seconds before Mammon figures it out.

Her eyes widen behind her cowl and her hands still as she stares at the Cloud.

Curse.

_ Curse _ .

It was an  **_actual curse_ ** . Her Cloud was  **_talking about magic_ ** .

Viper herself wasn’t  _ exactly _ a witch. She wasn’t a Squib either. She was technically considered a Hedgewitch. Someone with magic, but not enough for a wand. She could make and use both potions and runes, and a few spells would work wandless for her, but she didn’t have a core large enough to truly  _ learn _ . ( _ Not that it stopped her from finding ways to substitute with her Flames just to prove she could, but most magic was unattainable for her personally. _ )

She still researched, she still learned all she could because she knew the knowledge could and would save her life and the lives of others. ( _ Plus there was the money making opportunities if she managed it right, and she was very good at her information gathering job. This just expanded her clientele _ .) She searched out the old and unknown for herself to use in her illusions, and she knew enough to know what she was seeing.

This was a curse, but she needed to figure out  _ which one _ .

Her hands rushed forward skimming as close as she could to each wound on their Cloud before she realized what she was seeing.

_ Oh shit. _

It shouldn’t even be  _ possible _ . This was a curse that was beyond ancient- she had only looked at it because it had been between her and an old Egyptian tomb full of treasure- and she had watched the man who had been hit die in moments.

They had learned over the course of trying (and later succeeding) to get the treasure that magic was useless against it, which was  _ why _ Viper knew what she was seeing. Flames were the only way to survive once it was effecting a person and even then it had to be done in the proper order or it would only make the curse worse.

Sky Flames would petrify sections of skin wherever the wounds were, Sun Flames would speed up the effects of the curse like giving it a supercharge, Lightning Flames would just make it harder to  _ stop _ the curse, upping the defensive properties of it, Rain Flames would only slow the curse down, it wouldn’t help anything, Mist Flames created new more dangerous wounds, and considering Skull’s response to Reborn, Viper figured he had discovered that Cloud Flames would just multiply the wounds already present.

( _ Later, when Skull finds out that he had been hit with a very ancient Egyptian curse that only Flames could fix, that Viper just happened to know how to counter due to earlier treasure hunting, he would shake his head and mutter about ‘the Potter Luck at its finest.’ _ )

“Fon!” Mammon shouted, her gaze never leaving the bleeding form of the Cloud.

Storm Flames had to be applied before everything else. They were the only ones that could destroy the curse itself, and even then it had to be done by someone who knew what they were doing and who had very good control or it would kill the person under the effects of the curse by basically disintegrating them.

Fon knelt at Viper’s side immediately. “What do you need?”

“Give me your hand.” She snagged the closest hand and brought it forward so it hovered over Skull’s wounds. “Focus. I know you’ll be able to feel it. The energy that is tainting him.”

Fon obeyed without complaint, and sure enough- “What is that?”-his eyes narrowed. It didn’t feel like Flames, but it definitely wasn’t natural or friendly and he could feel it trying to spread. It was dark and almost  _ slimy _ .

And it was  _ hurting Skull. _

“Don’t worry about that for now,” Viper answered, tone sharp and almost dismissive, “I need you to overwhelm it, and  _ only _ that, Fon. It will fight you every step of the way and if you waver for even a moment it will kill Skull.”

Fon tensed sharply even as the stillness around him told him how the warning had effected the others.

_ (The memory of a blood soaked field dead bodies around their Cloud, Skull crumbed in the center with a  _ hole in his head _ but the evidence he had gone down fighting every step of the way, taking down an entire third of the enemy forces before the shot that killed him had struck--) _

**That would not happen.**

Fon’s determination lights a bonfire of red on his hands as he reaches for the energy in his Cloud that is  _ wrongwrongwrong _ .

Viper is right.

It fights back, lashing out at him like the stinging strikes of a salted whip, writhing under his assault, and causing Skull to arch of the ground with obvious pain though not a sound escapes his lips apart from a hissed shallow breath. Fon doesn’t waver for even a moment his eyes narrowed with focus as he destroys the energy that doesn’t belong on  _ anyone _ Fon choses to shelter in the eye of his Storm.

By the time Fon manages to destroy it completely- whatever it was- since it kept trying to  _ hide _ from him like it was actually sentient and aware Fon was going to destroy it Fon is actually winded. He knows this means that anyone else would be edging on complete Flame Exhaustion. He leans back “It is done.”

“Reborn, go.” Viper commands and Reborn is there his hands flaring with the healing Flames he had tried to use earlier.

The wounds are sluggish to respond, and it takes more Flame then is should but eventually Reborn gets the wounds closed up, glad that the presence of Storm Flames would have killed any bacteria that may have gotten into Skull’s wounds.

Colonnello is the one that picks their Cloud up and heads for the mansion while Fon takes an extra second to burn the blood staining the ground away.

Skull has a  **_lot_ ** of explaining to do when he’s actually conscious, but for now they will take care of him.


	9. Chapter 9

 

Skull wakes up all at once.  One moment unaware and the next wide awake though not a breath changes, not a movement gives it away. 

He isn’t sure when he honestly passed out instead of the mentally retreated state he had been in earlier, but it happened at some point.

His body  _ hurts _ . It feels raw in all the places that were recently healed and a few more, like skin layers have been scrubbed off with sandpaper until he bled. It’s a very familiar feeling but his surroundings aren’t right for that.

It takes him a few minutes to figure out what happened.

The events of yesterday bloom in the front of his mind and his breath stutters ever so slightly.

 

The curse, his inability to heal himself, the knowledge he would have to go to the Arcobaleno and the choice to apparate in. Collapsing and the Arcobaleno’s arrival, the instinctual movement to stop Reborn because as far as he could tell in that state Flames just made the curse  _ worse _ (multiplying his own wounds was not a fun experience) and he didn’t want to chance it.

Calling to Viper, hoping she was smart enough to put it together.

She obviously had been, he was alive, if only very sore.

It takes another second for it to dawn on Skull what this series of events actually  _ means _ .

The Arcobaleno would want explanations.

Explanations he didn’t want to give. He had worked hard to keep them out of the world that had taken so much from him. He’d worked hard to be ‘Skull’ and this…this went against everything he had worked for. Everything he  _ fought _ for, his greatest fulfilled  _ wish. _

Viper was now aware at the very least that wizards were involved in whatever Skull was doing if nothing else.

That was too much. Even just that would eventually lead to Harry Potter and the Arcobaleno weren’t  _ stupid _ they would put it all together and Skull  _ was not _ ready for that.

But he still refused to alter their minds. He couldn’t do it. It went against his instincts and morals (those that had survived the war). He would  **_not_ ** alter their memories. It was revolting to him. The very idea that he would break their trust that way…he couldn’t do it.

Not to them,

Which meant he’d have to tell them  _ something _ .

This was the closest to sheer blind panic he had been since he was 11 with his hands burning a man into ash with a touch. He breathes for another moment before he opens his eyes, and sits up, the only sign of his pain is the tightening skin around his eyes.

He stills. Something had felt off, but he hadn’t noticed it. Not- not exactly. His hands shook.

_ He could see his hands, his arms; his chest. _

**_His skin was bare._ **

There was nothing covering him. Nothing to shield the marks of war on his body.

**_They had seen him without his armor._ **

**LINEBREAK**

The room is silent. 

Not one of the Arcobaleno speak, but their  **_rage_ ** fills the room, making it thick and heavy, almost as if it were humid. The only one absent is Yuni who is with Skull.

They had gone to clean him up after getting him inside. Colonnello had been the one to take him into the bathroom and begin cleaning him up. He hadn’t been alone more than three minutes before the others had come back due to the sudden spike of absolutely  _ inflamingly _ enraged Rain Flames.

Skull had been limp in their Rain’s arms, but he had been missing his gloves and shirt.

**_Scars._ **

Scars  _ everywhere _ . Scars they could tell at a glance were all inflicted by someone else scars they recognized for the marks of torture that they were.

Words carved into skin, knife wounds, punctures, slashes, things they  _ didn’t even recognize _ .

Colonnello had reached forward, hesitant for only a fraction of a moment before he pulled rest of the clothes free until Skull was left only in boxers.

More scars.

It had gotten worse as they cleaned up his face. As the makeup was cleaned away, the marks of torture (because the Arcobaleno  _ knew _ what torture scars looked like) were revealed.

Fon had disintegrated the door he had been holding, as well as part of its frame before he got himself under control, but he knew that pesky Lantern Warning System- as Skull called it-meant his eyes were a gleaming red. He had very carefully folded his hands into his sleeves so he wouldn’t break anything else down into nothing with a touch. He took careful breaths in an attempt to still the raging of his inner Storm.

It didn’t work. ( _ Someone had  _ **_carved_ ** _ into  _ **_his_ ** _ Cloud’s body  _ **_very_ ** _ deliberately _ )

He needed to demolish something ( _ someone _ ) his fists ached with urge to clench and punch whatever ( _ whoever _ ) had done this.

Another breath. He couldn’t do that yet. ( **_Oh, but he_ ** **would** **_, he_ ** **would** **_and he would enjoy_ ** _ every _ **_moment of it_ ** )

Reborn was very, very still. His eyes were shining gold, and his fedora did little to hide their gleam in its shadows as he tried to wrestle the urge to go shake the answers out of their Cloud. He didn’t think he’d  _ ever _ be able to truly  _ hit _ their Cloud again after this. Some of those scars were  _ years _ too old to be inflicted at any point but very early childhood. Reborn very carefully controlled his breathing as he struggled to  **_not think_ ** about how many times he had hit and shoved and kicked their Cloud around. As he struggled to control the very real, very  _ powerful _ surge of remorse that he had expanded on the hurt of someone who had survived so much. 

_ God _ they had called him  **_weak_ ** but some of those scars should have  **_killed_ ** him.

His steady hit man hands shook just a little. 

Verde was very close to a breakdown.

Not in the ‘sobbing hysterical’ way, but in the sense that  **_everything he thought he knew_ ** was **_wrong_ ** . 

He was a  _ genius _ . He  _ prided himself _ on his information on the other Arcobaleno. He had observed and recorded information on all of the Arcobaleno himself.  _ How _ had he missed  **this?** How had he  _ not seen? _ How had he  _ missed _ all the signs that were so,  **so** painfully obvious now that he knew to look for them? The signs that their Cloud had been in, and survived, torture the likes of which he hadn’t ever seen outside some very bad cases of Prisoners of War? 

Sparks danced across his hair and fingers, his eyes glowing so much brighter green then normal as he wrestled with the knowledge that he had  _ tried to experiment on a POW survivor.  _ He didn’t have many lines he wouldn’t cross, but  _ that _ was absolutely one of them. He wouldn’t put someone who had survived what Skull had back into a situation so like what they had survived.

Except he  _ had _ in a way. Oh, nowhere near that bad, but he had done a few things that would have  _ certainly _ triggered a flashback or two if he was reading the scars on the Cloud correctly. (Skin samples, blood taken without permission, tests that didn’t scar or maim, but he could see some scars that spoke of things that mimicked these tests, but were  _ meant _ to torture.)

Guilt was an emotion Verde was not familiar with, almost as unfamiliar as the situation where he was wrong, and  _ he didn’t like it _ .

Colonnello’s hands shook. His blue eyes glowed. He had had to wash the blood away. He had felt each new scar as it appeared under makeup or blood, or under a layer of clothes. He has gotten a very, very close look at the marks on their Cloud. Colonnello who was a soldier and recognized the signs of  _ war _ when he saw them.

He was going to be  _ sick _ .

He was a soldier and he hadn’t seen that their Cloud was one as well. A brother in arms. _Always Faithful_ he had sworn, he had sworn he would be to those who fought. And he finds he _hadn’t_ been. Skull hadn’t looked like it, but he was a _soldier_ a **survivor** and Colonnello had **_missed it_**. That had been bad enough, but to not only miss the signs, but miss them so thoroughly he had _abused_ (oh _god_ he had hadn’t he? That was what he had done and he **_hadn’t realized it_**. He hadn’t connected his actions with _that_ word) what looked to be a POW??

Colonnello hunched in over his knees as he tried not to throw up.

How would they  **_ever_ ** make this up to their Cloud?

Viper was feeling a little faint. She wasn’t  _ stupid _ .

She has sensed that Skull had magic. She had thought him to be like her: a Hedgewizard. Except he could apparate, as he had done to get to them. That meant he was an actual full-fledged magic user.

A magic user  _ covered _ in scars. Scars enough to look like he had come out of a war.

What magical place did she know of that had had any sort of war recently enough for her Cloud to have the scars he did?

Britain.

Voldemort.

Skull De Mort.

She had gone to get a closer look at those scars when they were revealed to her once the blood and makeup, the armor he had worn was stripped away. Each scar had upped her horror and shame. She had never hit or screamed at Skull, but she had stood by. She hadn’t helped him as she should have.

That scar on his hand. The words ‘ _ I must not tell lies _ ’. The knife wound on his arm, a knife that had been dragged very slowly through his veins, the puncture wound on his arm that appeared to be chemical burned, the marks on his back…they had all lead her to one conclusion…she had  **_prayed_ ** she was wrong to a god she didn’t believe in.

And then she had shakily lifted Skull’s fringe and there it was. Nearly invisible it was so faded, if she hadn’t known exactly where to look and what she was looking for, she would have missed it.

The lightning bolt.

She had swayed on her feet,  _ revulsion _ slamming into her. Not for Skull, not for him. No she had never been more disgusted with  _ herself _ in her life.

The man who had lead the war, the man who had saved their people, and especially those like her who were not like the wizards with full use of their magic had been  **_sitting with her for over 33 years_ ** , who had given her gold, and baked her the best of her favorite desserts for information and favors and she had  **_missed it._ **

The only thing to save her from falling over was that she was sitting down now.

Good **_gods,_** Skull was ** _the Man-Who-Conquered._**

**LINEBREAK**

“Skull…”

Purple eyes swing to the side of his bed and there she is. His Sky.

He flinches back from her sight the thought rings through his head- _ “Oh  _ **_god_ ** _ she can  _ **_see all my scars_ ** _ she’s  _ **_staring_ ** _ at me stop it stopit STOPIT” _

“Skull, breathe. Breathe, okay? It’s okay. Shhhh….” She reached out to him and he flinched again, but he’s already against the wall and he can’t go anywhere without moving Yuni who has stood and approached him slowly, reaching out for him even though all he wants to do it  _ hide _ because she  **_had seen_ ** .

“It’s okay,” she tells him, utterly sincere and he wants to scream that,  _ no it’s not, _ but his voice has fled as she cradled his face between her hands much as she had in the forest when he had collapsed under chains except her eyes are a shining gleaming orange as she soothes him.

When it dawns on him that she isn’t looking away from his eyes, not once does her eyes flicker to any scar that is showing he slowly, achingly slowly, relaxes on the bed. 

“Yuni.” He whispers, voice trembling, but clear. “Where are my clothes?”

Her eyes are soft as she sighs softly. “Destroyed, but I have something for you.”

She hands him a pair of leather gloves and a long sleeve dress shirt (it’s Reborn’s) and a long pair of cargo pants (Colonnello’s) and he settles a little even though he has to roll both articles of clothing up a bit to manage them, and he still feels naked and knows the scars from Malfoy Manor are showing on his face, but most of them are covered and he doesn’t feel like he’s about to crawl out of his own skin now just like ants are crawling over his exposed face.

He can ignore that.

But…

“Do…Do they know?” he asks his Sky and he knows she knows what he is asking.

_ Do they know I am Harry Potter? _

Yuni had always known who her Cloud had been, had always shielded him as best as she could from the others and it’s part of the reason Skull is so ruthless in defense of her.

“They will” she answers him “And Viper knows for sure”

Skull flinches.

He knows they would eventually have found out about his past…but he had never thought it would be like this.

A slip up on his part, on his self-imposed mission. He was  _ decades _ removed from the Wizarding World. An eye was barely enough to know all the details of an entire world.

And that buried fear from what seems like an age ago is back in his head, the whispered thought that he no longer needs to wonder and will soon have an answer too.

_ What will they think of me? _


	10. Chapter 10

 

Lal breathes deep and stands to her feet. She has to leave the room. Even if she was once a Rain, she’s now a Misty Cloud and she had her limits to what she would deal with. Finding out how much Skull had been hurt, that they had made his situation worse, that they- that  _ she _ \- had missed  **so much** about their Cloud was… 

Lal wanted to  _ hit _ things until something broke- her hand, the object, or Skull’s enemies- until she couldn’t feel anything for a while. A soldier had been the one to  _ save _ her and her kids. It had been winter and she had been homeless, cold, and starving, but she had been the oldest in the group and one of the few able to go out for food and come back. She still wouldn’t have made it alive with the kids she watched out for- _ her kids _ -if the soldier hadn’t helped her.

She owed her life to a soldier, had chosen her career path because of that soldier, had become and worked with soldiers for a large portion of her life and she  _ hadn’t noticed _ .

If Lal hadn’t walked away she would have destroyed the house.

There had been  _ so many _ scars.

_ Gods, _ they had been so blind.

She slides back into the house silently after working off some of the rage (they had firewood for a while) before sitting on the couch next to Colonnello.

**LINEBREAK**

Skull’s hands are shaking.

He can’t hide up here forever, he knows, but he doesn’t want to go downstairs either. Yuni sits beside him, waiting for Skull to move. She doesn’t say a word to him about what he ‘should’ do.

Skull appreciates that.

They had seen his scars, and had saved his life. They were his Elements, his friends. He had hidden this from them for  _ thirty-three _ years. He had always known they would find out though. Sooner or later, someone would slip, the situation would demand it,  _ something _ would happen and he would tell them.

He supposed it was time. The secret lasted pretty long though.

Skull shudders again, steeling himself before he carefully stands. A hand ghosts over the scars on his face, lowering into his line of sight so his eyes can trace where he knows, through the gloves, the familiar scrawl of ‘ _ I must not tell lies _ ’ that’s carved into his skin sits. His gaze lifts to the door that leads downstairs. It’s closed. 

It was time. He’d always meant for the others to find out about his past, just…not like this. He’d always thought it would be on  _ his _ terms. When  _ he _ felt ready.

If he was honest, Skull didn’t think he would ever have been ‘ready’ to tell them though.

So maybe…maybe this was for the best.

Even if he felt like he was going to throw up, he was so nervous. Even if he hands shook, and his breath wanted to come in too-quick gasps. Even if he wasn’t even sure where to  _ start _ explaining everything to the others.

Just because it was for the best didn’t mean that Skull didn’t want to run. He  _ wanted _ to run- very much. He didn’t want to explain this, didn’t want to relive everything he had survived.

Didn’t want the Arcobaleno to see  _ Harry Potter _ in  _ Skull De Mort _ .

He wouldn’t run though. He had faced Voldemort, a Basilisk, Dementors, Dragons, Mermaids, and war, when he was a  _ teenager _ , all those terrifying things trying to kill him, and he did it without running away. He refused to start with the Arcobaleno who, despite their words, cared about his well being. He took a shaky breath, shoving his hand through his messy hair before he began heading for the stairs.

Harry wasn’t really ready for this, but…but circumstances meant it was time to tell them anyway. A tired sort of smirk worked its way onto his face. Once again he was shoved into a situation, lacking information and entirely unprepared.

At least this one wouldn’t kill him.

**LINEBREAK**

The collective focus of the Arcobaleno snapped to the stairs the moment when they heard the door open and shut. They knew Skull had let them hear him coming. Even before all  _ this _ had happened Skull had always been quiet on his feet, so they knew the noise was deliberate. His footsteps were still silent, as if to confirm from them how badly they had messed up.

They silently, with neutral expressions, watch as their Cloud slinks down the stairs, his shoulders squared, his face blanked, his chin up and the lines across his eyes deep with stress and tension. There’s a stubborn tilt to his mouth. Skull gets about halfway down the stairs before he pauses, his dark ( _ jaded _ ) eyes lift to stare down at them all. They see the subtle quiver that runs through his body before he takes a deep audible breath and continues down the last few steps.

Reborn hesitates, in starting the conversation. Which Skull takes full advantage of. He stands there, and speaks briefly allowing his gaze to fall on each of them before moving on.

“I’ve fought my entire life.” He tells them, his voice shaking a bit, but his eyes are steady. “I didn’t even make it to two years old before I started fighting,” he continues and it’s  _ accusing. _

Reborn doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch or outwardly react. Skull still catches those whose eyes slide away from him, those whose fists clench and whose breath stutters.

“Every day after that was a fight for my survival, for food, for basic hygiene, for education, my life and the lives of everyone around me.”

Skull’s just beginning his explanation and already  _ none _ of them like where they know this is going to go. They had known they wouldn’t like what came out of their Cloud’s mouth (and at this moment, only Viper truly knows how  _ much _ the others will loathe what they will soon learn, Viper is the sole Arcobaleno that has any idea of how  _ dark _ their Cloud’s life had actually been) but they hadn’t thought it would start so  _ early _ .

_ Two? _ He had fought since he was physically the age the curse had reverted them to?

**LINEBREAK**

Skull has locked his body into place at the foot of the stairs after letting that first sentence escape his lips.

He hadn’t really realized at first that he  _ had _ been fighting since he was two. “I-” he pauses and closes his eyes and breathes deeply.

_ Harry, always pause before you act, breathe before you move. We don’t want a repeat for fifth year again, right? _

_ Hey! I started the DA in fifth year and where would we be be without that? _

He shakes himself from memories and attempts to begin again.

This was  **_hard_ ** .

Harder than walking out to the Forbidden Forest and meeting Voldemort, knowing,  _ knowing _ he would die there. Dying was  _ easy _ . Making the choice between his life and the lives of his friends, of the  **_children_ ** that stood behind him?

There had never been an easier choice in his life.

( _ -Dumbledore had made  _ **_sure_ ** _ of that- _ )

Living was hard. It was uncertain and things changed, and it  _ hurt _ and yet- and yet.

He had stood up from certain death for a second time and had marched forward from there, even after he realized he was different than the others, even after he realized that the war he had fought, the family he had lost, the friends he had buried, all those who died for a world free of Voldemort and for some sort of equality- They had died for  _ nothing _ because everything they had fought against was  _ still happening, _ only now it was better hidden. 

(- _ and that had been one of the worst realizations of all, the confirmation that his  _ **_life_ ** _ meant  _ **_nothing_ ** )

Telling all of this to the Arcobaleno was  _ hard _ , but he would get through this. He wasn’t wiping their minds, and they wouldn’t leave him alone now that they knew  _ something _ so Skull would have to talk.

“I,” he continued resolutely, his voice steadying out as he spoke, “I lost my parents when I was one. They died defending me from a madman.” His eyes flickered as memories swelled- 

( _Lilly it’s him! Take Harry and run! I’ll hold him off!!_ ) ( _Not Harry! Please, no, not Harry! Take me! Take me instead!_ ) 

-before he shoved the memories back, along with the cold that rose up in his chest. “I was left with my mother’s sister. She…did not take after my Mum. She…my Aunt that is, she and her family wanted nothing to do with me, and made that very clear to me. I was ‘Boy’ or ‘Freak’ and I cooked and cleaned and took care of the house, including the lawn. My earliest memory,” he says, for the second time in his life, “Is burning myself on the stove and my aunt screaming at me for burning the bacon.”

Skull didn’t meet any of the Arcobaleno’s eyes. Instead he shifts his focus over their shoulders and at the walls around them. He doesn’t want to  _ see… _

“She might have hit me with the frying pan, but I’m not entirely sure.”

**LINEBREAK**

The Arcobaleno didn’t need anything spelled out for them. They weren’t stupid. With what Skull had said, and what he  _ wasn’t _ saying paired with the scars on his body- some that they  _ knew _ where from very early childhood…

Skull had been abused by his mother’s relations. The wording he uses to describe his entrance into their lives-  _ was left- _ is concerning. Because that implies a lot of unsavory things.

Flames stirred in response to their anger. It wasn’t even two minutes into their Cloud’s explanation and they were already angry. They were Mafia and it wasn’t something they hadn’t seen before- especially at the top of the Underworld where they stood- of course. Child abuse was unfortunately a rather common problem so it was something they had seen and dealt with many times honestly.

Reborn charged lower prices for child abusers. Viper would randomly find them and take all their assets before ruining their lives. Sometimes ending them. Occasionally taking the kids in as informants, giving them a place, or finding them one if they wanted it. The others were the same. All of them had come from troubled backgrounds, so this wasn’t something  _ new. _

But this was a bit different…this was  **_their_ ** Cloud being treated as a  _ thing _ . As a  _ slave. _ This was deeply personal to them and their anger was  _ justified _ . Skull was  _ theirs. _ That he had been hurt in such a way, that they  _ hadn’t noticed _ and continued to treat him like shit in their ignorance...well that changed things. 

_ Gods, _ they had hurt their Cloud so much more than they had realized. How many times had they hit him? How many times had they yelled and demanded and ordered him around? All in the name of ‘ _ toughening the civilian up’.  _ He showed none of the usual signs of child abuse. They all just believed he ran away to the circus to chase after his dreams.

…Skull had never dodged their hands before only gunshots and weapons. He’d always just taken their orders and obeyed. They thought he was just  _ learning _ , that he  _ understood  _ his place among them. Apparently it was because he was used to hands hurting him and saw no reason to dodge them. For him, it was instinctive to respond to orders without thought (especially since they had  _ hit him _ while giving their orders). Him refusing any training had lead to them physically attacking him, in an attempt to make him give in. 

He just took it, so they figured if he could take their hits, he would be okay against the rest of the world. Maybe, if he was truly in danger, his instincts would wake up and realize he was a  _ Cloud. _

Glances were exchanged as they realized this. How much had they expanded on their Skull’s pain just by mimicking his early childhood, even if they hadn’t realized it? How much had they hurt him?

**LINEBREAK**

Skull continued dispassionately, ignoring the looks that his fellow Elements exchanged with each other.

“My aunt was obsessed with keeping the house clean, the lawn and garden perfectly arranged. I was told to keep up with everything, else I would be punished. Punishments included getting hit with fists or frying pans, beaten with a belt, denied access to the bathroom and withheld food.” 

Skull fell easily back into ‘mission mode’ as he spoke. It allowed him to recite what he knew without feeling too emotionally attached to the information. He had used it during the war many times and working in the Mafia had only made it ( _ worse) _ better. It would hit him later, and hit him  _ hard _ after he had finished, but for now this allowed him to speak without his emotions overwhelming him too horribly.

It…wasn’t healthy, dissociating like that, but Skull didn’t think he’d manage to start, let alone finish with the Arcobaleno if he did this any other way.

“Mistakes resulted in punishment. Mistakes included burning food, missing a spot while cleaning, not cleaning something  _ enough _ , trimming hedges unevenly, missing weeds in the garden, doing better than my cousin in anything, touching my cousin’s belongings, asking questions, speaking out of turn, being rude, and being a freak.” 

He drew in a breath, lips twisting into a mirthless smile. 

“If my cousin did something wrong, it was my fault for being a freak and I was punished. If my cousin made something up and told my Aunt or Uncle I was punished. If I tried to defend myself, if I dodged I was punished. I learned quickly that I  _ didn’t ask questions _ and it was better to just take the punishments without complaint or any attempts to fight back because once I was  _ caught _ it was five times worse than it would have been. 

“I learned that guarding my food was something I would be punished for by being denied food for even longer. I learned not to ask for more or I wouldn’t be fed anything. If my cousin was hungry, he could take my food from me and I had to let him. I grew up knowing, for me, food was precious and I had to obey the rules of the house or I would get nothing.” 

“I never knew the names of my parents, until I was eleven years old. On the day of, actually.” Skull blinked, some feeling working its way past his barriers and into his glimmering eyes and faintly trembling voice “No questions, after all. I was  _ always _ hungry so I listened. I didn’t fight back, I didn’t disobey, and I tried to be their version of perfect.”

Skull fell back to the repressed state as he continued, “I know  _ now _ that the only thing that kept my going was my abilities, but I didn’t find that out until years later.”

**LINBREAK**

Skull’s fellow Elements were not handling this information as well as they thought they would.

All the Arcobaleno felt nauseous in one way or another. Guilty, ashamed and regretful. Hands that were some of the steadiest in the world, hands that could carve out swathes of death without the slightest of quivers shook. Subtly, almost unnoticed, but they shook. 

Their treatment of Skull had mimicked these people. These people they were so angry with had done what they had done. They had hit their Cloud, shoved him around and screamed at him. They had demanded perfection from him, and when it wasn’t given to them they had gotten violent with him. If he had fought against them they had hit him harder. ( _ I learned quickly to not ask questions and take the punishments without complaint or any attempts to fight back. _ ) And how many times had they taken food from his plate and eaten it in front of him? ( _ I was _ always _ hungry so I listened. _ )

Flames stilled and stuttered in their horror, glances were exchanged, hands quivered, eyes  _ gleamed _ with Flames as emotions raged under the surface of the blank faces the Arcobaleno projected, just as much as Skull was doing now.

And that was wrong too. Skull was meant to be emotional and flamboyant and  _ loud. _ Not this… _ blank, _ marble statue that recited this information like he was describing the list of groceries he needed to get and not the earth shaking revelations that they were for the Arcobaleno.

**LINEBREAK**

“I was six when I realized that no matter what I did my relatives would loathe my existence and punish me for whatever imagined wrong they could think of regardless of what  _ I _ did. I still performed as close to perfect as I could manage for them, but I knew it wouldn’t change how they treated me.” He tilted his head contemplatively, as if reminiscing on fond childhood memories instead of  _ this. _

“I was six and a half when I found out I couldn’t  _ tell _ anyone about what they did to me, because everyone I told, or anyone that put the pieces together would suddenly  _ ‘forget’ _ and then ‘ _ disappear _ ’. I was trapped with my relatives and nothing I did would change it, no matter what lengths I went to.”

Skull sighed heavily, raising a hand to run it through his hair. “And then I turned eleven and I saw a glimpse of the sun. A flicker of hope.”

His eyes cleared of blankness and focused sharply on the horrified faces of the Arcobaleno- not that they showed any sign of rage or pain, but Skull knew how to read them by now- as he told them, very solemnly.  

“What I tell you now is a secret kept under something that is a reflection of Omerta. I am using a loophole to tell you of it- for it states that I may only tell members of my family and so I am telling my  _ Family _ , but you  _ must not _ speak openly about this.”

Skull stares intently at the Arcobaleno, his eyes violently purple and flickering with the manifestation of his  _ Will _ . 

As Harry Potter it is entirely possible he could tell whoever he wished of Magic so long as he trusted them and no one would breathe a word against it, but he will not have them saying anything that would give someone an excuse to mess with their minds. He also wants them to realize that this is a society like the mafia, in the sense that it is hidden and  _ dangerous _ . He waits until he has a verbal agreement from each of his fellow Elements before he retreats back to that blank state of being, repressing the emotions attached to his memories.

“I warn you now that breaking this agreement could result in me being placed in this society’s version of Vindice’s prisons and your minds will all be wiped of any memories of what I tell you now, as well as any memory of  _ me _ . You will not remember any of it. ”

He can feel the bristling of the Arcobaleno’s Flames but it’s muted in this state, something that feels far away.

They don’t have to agree, but they’re  _ guilty _ and he needs to tell the truth anyway. Regardless of  _ everything. _

**LINEBREAK**

All of the Arcobaleno bristle and their Flames writhe under their skin as their Cloud casually speaks of  _ mind wipes _ , of  _ forgetting _ him, of a Vindice equivalent taking him away to be left to  _ rot _ while they  _ forget anything was wrong _ .

It would have been better if he had sounded more emotional about it, but Skull spoke like a civilian spoke of rain. Like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Something to be dealt with on a daily basis that didn’t impact your normal life, but you were still aware of it.

Viper alone knows that Skull speaks of Azkaban and Dementors and she shudders. She would not allow their Cloud to fall to that fate. Not even if she needed to use a Mist laced compulsion. She had failed her Cloud ( _ the Man who Conquered He Who Must Not Be Named _ ) more than enough already. She would not fail him in this. Would not allow him to be caged in that hellhole.

Especially considering Sirius Black.

**LINEBREAK**

Skull can feel how close he is to breaking down. He’s a hair's breadth away from just  _ stopping _ , from backing out of the room. His childhood had been the easy part for all that it had prodded at old wounds to tell them. This next part…his Hogwarts years…that glimpse of the sun so close he could almost touch it only to discover he was Icarus and he had flown too close, that the wax of his wings was  _ melting _ and he was soon to crash  **_painfully_ ** to the ground…

A deep breath and he reinforces the barrier between his mind and his emotions.

He can break it later. He can struggle with  _ Skull,  _ with  _ Harry _ , with all of this  _ shit _ , he can do that afterwards, when he needs to put himself back together, alone, as he always has. Only after he finishes here.

All he needs to do is breathe. As long as he breathes he can step forward, he can keep going.

Even when he is falling apart and there’s no one there to put him together again ( _ not anymore _ ), even when he feels like he’s bleeding, when he feels like he can’t take another step. As long as he was breathing he could stagger on as he always has: broken and lost and pained but stubborn enough to  _ endure _ .

_ (Or perhaps not stubborn, but lost with no idea how to do anything  _ but _ continue forward no matter what is in his way because it was all he had been taught to do, all he knew  _ how  _ to do.) _

~~_ - _ _ Dumbledore would be so  _ **_proud_ ** - ~~

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Being yourself](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15366513) by [silverseed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverseed/pseuds/silverseed)




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